Dark Raven
by unutterably stupid dragon
Summary: When Jonathan's home is blown up he disappears leaving Ski to call for help in finding him. Calliope Jones is more than either knows and holds a secret that will change their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Dark Raven I

This is loosely based on the 92-93 season series "Raven" starring Jeffrey Meek and Lee Majors.

R Violent and occult themes.

Disclaimer: "Raven" belongs to frank Lupo, his production company * ABC, I think. These stories are just for fun and are in no way connected to the series or for profit. I just love the characters * g *. I suspect the characters would appreciate it if I didn't love them quite so much * vbeg *

Time: 1993 December

Place: Hawaii

Spoilers: Not if you've seen the show.

Synopsis: Ski calls in a friend to help find Jonathan after someone blows up the house. The friend finds Jonathan. Jonathan finds his son.

Dark Raven: Lost

Christmas 1993

Jonathan Raven, tall, well muscled on a slender frame, dark curly hair ruffled by the evening breeze, looked at his back yard and shook his head. He wasn't certain how he had let Ski talk him into this. His yard was full of people. His martial arts students from the orphanage and Janis, their house mother/

counselor; and the handy man, whose name he had forgotten again, were there as well as Lucas and his adoptive family. Dori, the incredibly blond ditz with more brain and libido than common sense stood talking to Ken Tanaka and his daughter. Ski had even engineered Nora Blake's release from custodial care for the day so she could attend.

There were festive Christmas pin lights strung everywhere, along with some beautiful Japanese lanterns the Tanaka's had brought.

"Mr. Raven." He found the dark haired Nora at his elbow. "This looks just like a fairy tale," she said with a smile.

He smiled down at her. "Thank you. And tell Ski. It was his idea."

"That Herman, he just is the nicest guy."

"Yes, he is."

She moved away to talk to the other guests, her direct and old-fashioned formal speech surprising and delightful. He wished they could convince her to leave the institution, but there was really no safer place for her, and she enjoyed her job as a trustee, taking reading materials around to the other inmates.

The kids were a little rowdy, but none of the other guests seemed to mind. It was Christmas, a time for children. His thoughts drifted to the few Christmas holidays he could remember. Once his parents were dead, he had lived Japanese. The Shinto festivals honored by his foster family became those he knew, although he had never paid too much attention unless Aki came to get him.

Aki would love this party. He pushed the thought away. Another came unbidden: How was Hikari spending this time? Was he with "family" and friends? Or was he alone, hungry, tired? Just answering that question would make all this more meaningful. Maybe next year. He owed it to Ski to enjoy this evening with Ski's barbecue along with the Japanese cuisine he was supplying.

The party began to break up about 10 pm, the kids all clutching their presents and bubbling their thanks as they left. The others followed, thanking him for the good time. He walked Dori to her car, accepting her good night kiss with a smile before it got too entangling and he allowed himself to get lost in her warmth.

He tucked her into her car and stood watching as she drove away. Jonathan shook his head. Why did he push her away? She was warm and giving - and he never had a clue what she'd do next. Dori was - mischief and incomprehension.

He turned back to the house and was thrown to the ground by the concussive force of the blast that blew out the windows just before engulfing his home in flames. He scrambled to his feet, his brain numb. Ski. His only thought was that Ski had been inside, that Ski was rinsing out glasses in the kitchen. He moved to the doorway to go in, to get to Ski, but the heat of the flames was too intense. There was no way back in.

Jonathan moved the Jeep out of the drive way onto the street, flames reflecting in his dark eyes as he watched the life he had built become a funeral pyre for his best friend; his only friend. His mind felt empty, his body detached. The complete disbelief that flooded him made thinking impossible. This couldn't be happening. This had to be some sweat-drenched nightmare. Ski couldn't be dead. Not this way. Not so viciously, so impersonally. Ski.

Sirens. Police cars. Fire engines. Curious neighbors. He sat and watched the fire burn itself out. Aki's letter. His keepsakes. The Ninjato Tanaka had given him. Everything - gone. And through it all, Ski's face to add to his ghosts. His father and mother, Aki, the Dragons he'd killed and now Ski. Somewhere deep inside, he buried the hurt, the pain, the soul killing hate he would channel into retribution for this act. This was not an accident. It was a deliberate act of terrorism.

"Come on, move along. There's nothing to see. Move along." The cop was the voice of authority, to be obeyed. His body on automatic, he put the Jeep in gear and drove away from the ashes of his life. The police did not realize the man in the Jeep was the owner of the house. He was gone before the questions came.

Herman Jablonski woke up slowly. Lights. Lots of lights. Lots of twirly lights. There was a roaring in his ears. He shook his head. Ow! That hurt. He put a hand to his head. Warm, sticky - he was damaged. He sat up. His eyes widened as he stared at the house. Flames roared like the Inferno.

"Jonathan!" Did he really scream the name, or was it only in his mind? Where was Jonathan? He'd walked Dori to her car - His heart went cold. Jonathan was probably just walking back in when - Hell! He scrambled to his feet, then went to his knees and retched. His vision was double. He tried to regain his feet as people began to work their way into the back yard.

Darkness engulfed him.

"Chief! We've got a body!" someone yelled.

Two firemen detached from the contingent and came over. Their summation was quick: male, middle aged, large swelling and abrasion on the back of his head. Blood streaks where debris had caught him. Lucky to be thrown away from the house. He was shipped off to the hospital to recover.

Morning found Jonathan at the property he owned on Mauna Loa. He parked the Jeep and sat and staring at the lush green growth in front of him. Death was inevitable. He kept telling himself that. Yet Ski had just left an impossible to fill hole. For years now, the one constant in his life had been that big, drunken, golden bear of a man. Ski pulled in the reins when he went off half-cocked. Ski coming when he called. Ski pulling him through that god-awful bout of flu in Columbia. When he stumbled, Ski was there. No longer.

He got out of the Jeep and walked back into the woods to his unfinished house. By the time he got there, he was shaking. He sat on the steps of his house and let the reaction wash over him. He was alive. He would start again. He let the pain of loss fill him. He let the tears fall this time. Tears for his parents, his youth destroyed by vengeance, Aki and Ski. All the losses of his life found outlet in slow, silent tears.

Exhausted, he slept.

Hiroshi Osato looked from his TV to his second in command. The latter was very glad he had nothing to do with the fire and explosion, which had taken out the late Mr. Raven.

"Find him," Osato ground out.

"He is not dead?"

"Find out. Someone was taken to the hospital. If Raven-san is dead, so be it. If he is not, I want him. Now, go."

The other man bowed and did not wait to be told a second time. He did not see the frown cross his boss' face. Osato was not happy. He knew the Dragons still wanted Raven and his son, but this was not their way. The Yakuza had not ordered this attack. Who had?

He was not a man to sit and wait for information to come to him. If Osato had one flaw, it was impatience. He picked up the phone and placed several calls to people who owed him favors.

Dori awoke with a feeling of foreboding. She got up, showered, dressed and nearly spewed her first cup of coffee across the room as she watched the news. Ski in the hospital and the owner of the house missing. Damn! She called in to say she'd be late and went to see Ski.

"Hi!" she said quietly as she walked into his room.

"Dori! Where's Jonathan?"

"I don't know. I drove off; he was standing on the sidewalk. How are you?"

"Fine. Oughta be out this afternoon."

"Good."

"Yeah, but it don't explain where Jonathan is."

Dori got quiet. "Not - I mean - he -:"

"I don't think so. Cops were here earlier askin' questions. Wouldn't tell me nothin'. Go by and see if the Jeep is there?"

"OK."

She called half an hour later to tell him the Jeep was gone. "And, Ski, there are people all over the place."

"Kinda figured. Cops. Fire Marshal -"

"No. Not them. Other people. Scary people."

"Get out."

"I did. Look, I've got to go to work. I'll meet you at BK's tonight."

"Good girl." He could hear the preen on the other end as she accepted the compliment.

Jonathan awoke with a sense of loss. He lay on his back staring up at the non-roof of his house. He got up, washed his face in the cold water of the small lake fifty feet from his eventual front door and then just sat and stared at the water.

He pulled his long legs into a comfortable position and tried to meditate, to clear his mind, to focus past the hurt inside. It didn't work. Maybe some hard manual labor would help. He stripped off his shirt and set to work cutting wood for his house. Midday came and went. He continued to work until he staggered.

He wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt and sat down, staring out at the waterfall, the quiet water of the small lake, the green of the trees he had left in place. He was hungry, thirsty and bordering on the blackest bout of depression he had ever known. He sat for a long time.

Finally, thirst got the better of him and he moved, the cold water of the lake drawing him. Jonathan scooped up a couple of handfuls of water to wash his face, to drink, then pulled off his trousers and slid into the water to relax. It felt good, very good. A part of him wanted to stay in the water, to let go and just float on forever.

Eventually, hunger moved him out of the water to build a small fire and consider his options for food, of which there weren't a lot in the area. He dried his clothes and relaxed for a while, considering his options and trying not to recall Ski's predilection for bologna sandwiches with too much mayonnaise. But finding food was going to mean leaving his haven. Maybe in a while.

He stretched out next to the fire and closed his eyes. Sleep. That was the need. Sleep. He let his mind drift in the darkness behind his eyes. He dreamed. His parents' death; his initiation into the Black Dragons where he killed and killed and killed. He dreamed of Nick Henderson and their chess games, and other games more deadly. He frowned in his sleep, shifting uneasily on the grass-covered dirt. He awoke with a jerk, certain something was horribly wrong. Then he remembered. His house. Ski. An abyss of black opened before him. He let it swallow him, welcoming the darkness. For a while, Jonathan Raven disappeared.

Whispers. Ski hated it when doctors spoke in those hushed whispers. Dammit, he already knew that something was wrong. Why the hell wouldn't they just tell him?

One of the doctors, the pretty dark haired one with the serious look and the liquid dark eyes behind her prim glasses, detached from the quartet in the hallway and came into the room. She surveyed her patient and briefly referred to the thick sheaf of papers in his file. This was not the first time he had been in the hospital with broken bones, abrasions, contusions and miscellaneous holes poked in his body. She met the blue eyes and found mischief lurking there. Oh, my.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Jablonski -"

"Ski. Call me Ski," he told her with a flirtatious grin he was far from feeling.

She met his gaze directly and broke down and smiled. "Ski," she accepted with a nod. "How do you feel?"

"Like I been blown up and hit with parts of a house. Don't beat around the bush, tell me."

"My, you are direct. All right, the bottom line is that you have half a dozen vertebrae with hairline cracks in them, along with a nice crack in your skull. The skull is healing nicely, but there is still some edema in the area which could cause problems if you do anything sudden, or get hit again."

"Right. What about the spine?" The accent was still heavy, with gravel overtones, but the intelligence in the man's eyes and demeanor was startling. This was not the good ole boy she had been led to expect.

"You need to stay pretty much immobile for the next three weeks. Right now, the breaks are exactly what I said, hairline. Any pressure, in just about any direction, could make them bigger, could twist and shatter."

"And paralyze."

"Yes."

"Damn. Three weeks."

"For the skull fracture and to give the vertebrae time to fix. You really need to keep your spine - it's going to be at least three months before you can do much more than walk from one chair to another," she told him bluntly.

"OK. How do we manage to keep me ambulatory and stationary at the same time?" He knew the answer, he'd seen other men stuck in trusses before, but he wanted it in plain English.

"Well, basically, you're going to end up laced into a truss for three months."

"Great. Wonderful. And I can't leave the hospital for the next three weeks -?"

"Well, you can go home, assuming you have a home to go to, and can keep from rattling around for the rest of the time to give your head time to heal."

"Right. If Jonathan still had a house, I could go there. Let me see what I can figure out. I can't afford three weeks in a hospital and I don't think you'd appreciate me that long."

The doctor laughed at that. "Mr. - Ski, I suspect you'd be more fun than you think. But I also think you'll be happier somewhere else after we make certain the swelling is gone. Let me know."

"I will. Believe me, Doc, I will." He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling and a part of his brain trying to figure out if she was actually as entertained by him as he suspected she was. Damn but she was a fine looking woman, even if she was a little brainier than he usually liked them. But then, brainy wasn't necessarily bad when coupled with the figure he suspected was hiding under her white coat.

He watched her leave. "And I got no idea where Jonathan is."

Ski called Dori to apologize for canceling lunch and to get some help in finding a place to stay. With her connections, he found a partially furnished apartment he could afford until he was healed and could move back onto his boat. BK took time off from running his restaurant and bar to collect Ski and take him to the new place.

"Wow," was his initial reaction. The complex was built around an Olympic sized pool area where there were more than enough haole and Hawaiian girls in skimpy bikinis to keep Ski's heart pumping royally. The walk up to his apartment was difficult, but not impossible. It would take a few days to get it into shape, but it was adequate to his needs of the moment. The biggest problem was going to be getting someone to take him places. The doctor had made it very, very plain that driving was not on the list of allowed activities. Not even an automatic transmission.

Ski learned he and Jonathan had a lot of friends on the island. Ken Tanaka, learning of the explosion from the news, waited until he knew Ski was out of the hospital before making his sympathies known. He furnished a wet bar and a more functional bed for the healing man. BK furnished groceries, with Dori's assistance. The waitresses from BK's dropped by in twos and threes to check on him. Even the curator of the small museum he and Jonathan had helped out once sent a fruit basket and a request for him to let her know if she could be of any help.

The biggest thing on his mind was Jonathan. By the 28th of December, it was obvious that there were no remains in the ashes of the house. No human remains, anyway. BK took Ski to the house to check for anything that had survived. They crossed the yellow tape proclaiming "Do Not Cross". They were, after all, family, weren't they? The fire had burned hot and wild, the explosion making certain even the roof had collapsed. Ski had BK poke around where he knew there might be items still in tact. Not that he had a lot of hope that anything important was still there. Others had already been on the sceen.

Ski was hoping to find the remains of the keepsake box Jonathan had carried with him. Aki's letter, a handkerchief with the bare remains of her favorite scent, a notebook detailing what he had done and the clues he had to find his son. There might be copies, but the one in the box was the one he was currently using. Ski didn't know if there were other up to date copies of the information in that one.

Nothing. BK shook his head. He poked around some more. Tink. What? He poked again. Something metal? He dug into the debris, trying to avoid nails and screw ends. Something long, slender - a blade. He pulled free the blade of the sword Tanaka had given Jonathan. He looked up at Ski. A short nod. They would take the blade with them.

"See if you can find the round thing that goes on it. The handle and sheath kin be replaced, but the whatchamacallit that serves as a guard/cross piece on them things can't. It's metal too."

BK dug for several minutes before finding the oval piece Ski was describing. "Got it. Ski, I don't think there's anything more to find."

"Yeah. I know. Let's get out of here."

Saturday, Dori followed Ski's instructions on how to get out to Jonathan's other place. She parked and checked the dirt in front of the gate. Nothing. No one had been here in some time. She dusted her hands off and looked around before getting back into her car. It was a nice drive, but seeing Jonathan would have been even nicer.

She didn't see the dark hair framed face watching her from the shadows of the trees. The man stayed in the shadows, his brightly glittering dark eyes watching her leave. He smiled, even white teeth a sharp break in his face. He knew the woman, distantly. She was soft and warm and dangerous. It was good that she had left. He preferred to be alone. At least, for a while.

Weeks passed. Ski was stiff and the corset-like contraption he was fastened into didn't helping his temper any. Neither did not knowing where Jonathan had gone. The Jeep was missing. He'd checked the airports, the ferries, and any other way off the island he could think of and had come up empty. He'd even had a couple of guys watch his boat for a few days. Nothing. Jonathan Raven had disappeared as though he had never existed.

Ski fretted. He knew his friend was out there somewhere. He suspected that Jonathan had been caught by the explosion and had decided that he, Ski, had been inside when the thing blew. That didn't explain why he hadn't stuck around to make sure.

Or did it? Ski considered his own injuries. Maybe Jonathan had been hurt by the blast. Not badly. Not enough to need a hospital. But concussion could do strange things. Damn! Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? With everyone worried about the man, none of them had considered that he might have been seriously injured. He hadn't shown up at a hospital because he'd run. If the Dragons had done this, he had to leave, it was what he had always done.

Ski nursed his drink for a couple of hours trying to figure it out. No one had a clue what the missing man had done after the fire. The cops still wanted to talk to him, mostly to find out if he had any enemies who might have planted the bomb that started the whole thing. The fire investigators had found the remains of a mercury detonator in the remains of the house. It was a military grade detonator, the kind of thing any of his enemies might have used. Oddly, Ski had been aware of a couple of Osato's men hanging around since he and BK had sifted the ashes looking for clues. No reason for Osato to be keeping an eye on things if he knew Raven was dead. Or if he knew the Dragons had set the bomb. Or was there? Osato could have set the bomb, but they didn't know if Jonathan was dead, did they? No one but Jonathan knew the answer to that question. And he wasn't around to answer it.

Ski looked at the blackened blade. It reminded him of Jonathan. Forged in adversity, a baptism of fire that had not destroyed its temper. Yep, that blade was a lot like Jonathan. Somehow, he had to find the man and let him know that all he'd lost was his home. Yeah. Great. He took another drink and thought about how to find a man who could lose himself almost without thinking about it. A man who could become the thing he hated most to extract vengeance. Was that what Jonathan was doing now? Was he out there becoming more lethal than ever to avenge his home? That didn't make sense. Ski's mind worried around the edges of an idea he hadn't let himself fully confront since he woke up in the hospital. What if Jonathan was out of range of the news? What if he didn't know that the old sot he considered a friend was still alive? How far back into the dark might that drive him? Not too far, he hoped.

Three months passed slowly while Ski healed and looked for any sign that Jonathan was still on the islands. Nothing. Ski took his final x-rays; Dr. Moore let him out of the truss with an admonition to take it easy and a firm handshake, which included her phone number on a business card. Ski grinned at her. She was one of the lights in a very dark time. Dr. Moore, Dori and BK had done their best to keep his spirits up, each in their own way.

Ski went out to his boat. The thing sat there, listing slightly to port, looking abandoned and lonely. He checked the cache of clothes he kept for Jonathan. Still there. He hadn't gone to the boat after the fire. Damn. Ski cracked a beer and sat back carefully. He was still stiff from the enforced immobility. He could go out to Mauna Loa himself, but if Raven hadn't been there three months ago, he wouldn't be there now.

Or would he? Ski's forehead furrowed as he followed that line of thought. What if he'd just parked the Jeep somewhere else? What if he had been up there all this time? If he'd been up there working on his house, some one must have seen him. He'd have to get provisions - or would he?

Ski found himself considering just what his friend's state of mind might be by now. The Jonathan Raven he'd met while he was still in Special Forces had been hard and cold and difficult to get to know. He still wasn't certain exactly why he'd touched something in the man and why they'd become friends, but they had. If Jonathan still believed his friend to be dead - Damn. He seemed to be saying and thinking that a lot. That could be a real problem.

Well, he knew a real problem solver. If she'd come. He sighed and picked up the phone, dialing a number in Maine and waited.

"Jones' Asylum. Pick up or delivery?" a bored female voice answered the phone.

"Calliope?"

"Ski?" The warmth in her voice was unmistakable. "Where the hell are you? How are you? - What's up?"

"I need your help."

"Done. Where?"

"Hawaii."

"I can't get there before tomorrow."

"I'll meet you at the airport."

"I'll be there."

She replaced the receiver and looked around at a slender, Oriental looking teen-aged boy. "Old friend. Going to help," she signed manually to him.

His dark eyes watched her face and her hands. "Friend?"

"Hero."

He nodded curtly and turned away to finish working on his homework. He knew all she had told him about her hero. He deserved her help. He would be fine while she was gone.

"Kaitlin!" she yelled.

A middle-aged, rawboned woman with fine pale hair fanning out in a halo about her long face looked in from the kitchen. "Yes?" her beautiful alto voice answered her.

"I'm off to Hawaii. Don't know when I'll be back exactly, but shouldn't be too long. Take care of Zeph. I'll call when I get in."

"Done." She watched her red haired employer and friend become a whirlwind to pack, make reservations and get out of the house in half an hour.

Her last act was to grab Zeph and fold him in a bear hug that seemed to both annoy and reassure him. "Take care of Kait," she whispered in his ear and was not surprised at the small, curt nod she got. "Always and forever loved," she gave him her favorite Japanese phrase and was gone. She didn't have to see the small smile he allowed himself over her words.

Then she was gone and he felt panic start to rise. After eight years, he still feared losing the home he had found. He looked around for Kaitlin. No. As long as Kaitlin was here, he was safe. In her own way, Kaitlin was as much an anchor for his life as his mother was. He sat down to finish his homework.

Ski was at the airport as promised. He looked for the red head he remembered and was almost stunned to realize the woman had aged very, very little in the years since he'd last seen her. She spotted him, gave a wide grin and rushed over to give him a hug.

"Careful, there, darlin'. I'm still healing."

"Healing? What happened? What did you do this time? What are you doing in Hawaii?-" The questions flooded out of her.

Ski held up his hands to stem the tide of questions. "I'll tell all, but let's get out of here. I hate crowds these days." Besides, he'd spotted at least three of Osato's men in the airport. If they weren't watching for him and his guest, they were looking for Jonathan. The thought both annoyed and reassured him. Osato and the Dragons didn't know where Jonathan was or if he was still alive. That was a very good thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Mauna Loa

Wearing solid black, the new inhabitant had materialized in town. The locals were leery of him. The black curly hair was slicked back, the dark eyes were cold, the attitude was - difficult. It wasn't that he went out of his way to make trouble. He just seemed to attract it like a magnet. This was not a hippy left over, living out on the land, bothering no one. No, this one was trouble, pure and simple.

The third night of his first visit, someone finally called his bluff - and discovered it wasn't a bluff. Sam behind the bar was not a stranger to the sound of breaking bones, but this was so casually indifferent. The three young studs who had challenged the newcomer were nursing broken wrists and arms within seconds of their attack. There was a satisfaction in the man's demeanor; his smile a chiseled V in his handsome face. He wasn't even breathing hard as he returned to his solitary drink, which he finished and then left.

As he vanished into the dark, Sam realized that the man had not spoken or made any sound the entire time, letting breaking bones and bodies hitting the floor speak for him. Sam shook his head. When the deputies came to inquire, he told them what he knew, nothing.

"They said he started it."

"The only thing he started was his drink. They laid hands on him, he reacted, he finished his drink and left."

"Where'd he go?"

Sam shrugged his massive shoulders. "I don't know. He walked in here a few days ago for a drink. Walked out. I figger he'll be back when he wants to be."

"We'll keep an eye out."

Two nights later Lola made her move on the new top dog. She knew she looked good in the tight black dress with its low cut décolleté and its short skirt. She was surprised when he didn't even give her a look as he walked silently past her. She let him sit for a moment, drinking his cold beer, then she changed stools to sit next to him.

"Hi. You're new around here." Her voice was low, breathy, the sort of voice to find a man's hormones and turn the tap with a rush.

He looked around at her. She felt like he'd looked into her soul with those opaque black eyes and didn't particularly care one way or the other about what he found there. Lazily, he reached over and clamped one hand on the back of her neck, pulling her toward him, irresistibly. Their mouths met, his hard and demanding, hers soft, frightened of what she'd seen in his eyes. Then he let her go and turned back to his drink. She sat and stared at him for a long moment, not quite believing that that brutal kiss was all there was of this encounter. She slid off the stool and walked back to the ladies room. If anyone heard her crying in the stall inside, no one said anything when she came out, paid for her drink and left.

The days passed, the weeks passed, and the nameless black clad stranger became a fixture. The tales started in whispers in the dark of night. He was thought to be some haole spirit come to make life difficult. He was accounted some retired covert agent who just wanted a quiet life but didn't know how to fit in, yet. He was a sinister still active agent who would soon murder all of them in their beds.

He returned Lelani's dog when it wandered off. He helped Scott and Mei get their stupid Siamese out of the tree it had decided it was trapped in. (It was universally held that Scott and Mei's parents had deliberately gotten the dumbest Siamese they could find just to have something to talk about besides their kids.) He stopped the robbery at the convenience store. Well, maybe it was just his presence, but the girl who worked the late shift thought it was more than that. He'd put the evil eye on the two men. They'd fallen all over themselves getting out of the store; she could hear it from her hiding place behind the counter.

After three months, the only thing out of place was his silence. He never spoke. Once in a while someone would surprise that hard glittering look and the manic smile on his face. But that was all. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he just had nothing to say. Not even the deputy could figure out where the man came from, or where he was living. He walked everywhere, but he disappeared with incredible ease when the young man tried to follow him. The deputy blamed the dense tropical growth in the area. His friends blamed the deputy's considerable girth. Both were partly right.

The man who had been Jonathan Raven was living a strange, spare life. He avoided people as much as possible. Yet the small town drew him. He wandered the untamed land on which his home was centered. He walked everywhere. English words made sense to him, but his tongue had no desire to speak them. He let his hair grow, but kept it slicked back. He practiced his skills, becoming more silent, more efficient, more deadly by the day. Soon, he would be ready.

Back in Honolulu, Ski was briefing his red headed friend.

"He's been missing how long?"

"Almost four months now. Not a word."

"He left the island?"

Ski shook his head. "No. I checked the airports, the heli services, the boats. Hell, if he thought I was dead and wanted to leave, why didn't he just take the boat?"

"I don't know. So, where do you want me to start?"

"He's got a place up on Mauna Loa. I've been there once. He took Lucas out there."

"Who's Lucas?"

"Kid we thought might be his son."

"Ski, could we try this in long hand?"

Ski grinned. "Jonathan's got a son he's never seen. Didn't know the woman was pregnant, ran into some trouble and had to leave Japan in haste. She died in childbirth. The kid was placed with someone to keep him safe. Eventually the letter telling him he had a kid caught up to him, but the girl was dead and the kid was missing. Been chasing leads all around the world for years. The last good ones landed us here."

"And Lucas might have been, but wasn't."

"Yeah. He's got a good home now, but he's not the right one."

"Ok, so not a lot of people know about the place."

"Right. If he needed a place to hide out, or thought he did - Dori went up right after the fire, but his jeep wasn't there. And it's not like she was dressed for checking things out."

Cal grinned at that. "City girl, huh?"

"Definitely. But sweet. Real sweet. Kinda sweet on Jonathan, too."

"OK. So, I need a map and I'll go take a look."

She checked the towns in the area. Someone should have seen him if he was there to see. He had to get supplies. Maybe someone would mention a tall, dark haired, good-looking haole in her hearing. Unfortunately, haole red heads did not seem to bring out a tendency to confide in the locals. Finally, she decided walking in from the backside was a better idea than going in by the gate. Well, maybe not the backside that seemed to consist of beach and cliff overlooking water. Still, walking in wasn't such a stretch of the imagination. She took her time and checked out the area for signs of life while looking like an innocent hiker. She was almost convinced there was no one there, when one of life's little annoyances caught her by surprise.

Sensible hiking boots are normally good for keeping ankles from suffering much damage if you find something to step on wrong. She didn't realize the shoestrings had come untied and the ankle support had loosened until she found a root where she wasn't expecting one. The snapping sound and the pain as she went to her knees and skidded about 20 feet were enough to tell her she'd done something really horrible to her right ankle. She cussed. She cussed in three different languages until the pain subsided enough to investigate the damage.

She eased the heavy sock down slightly to take a look at her ankle. It was already beginning to discolor from blood pooling in the tissues. "Oh, great, you great dunderheaded looby," she told herself. "Now how are you gonna get back to civilization?"

"How indeed?"

The silk smooth voice sent chills down her spine and tried to make her hair stand on end, at least the part on her neck. She took a breath, let it go and looked around. She didn't see an origin for the voice. It hadn't sounded like it was above her, so she didn't look up into the trees. "OK. I know pain can do funny things, but I didn't think silky, sinister voices were a part of the repertoire until much later - like when the delirium set in."

Silent, swift, scary. Good words. She found herself gazing into a pair of wide, opaque, dark eyes under winging black brows. He looked a bit thinner than his photograph. He looked more remote, much more remote. He looked down at her ankle, regarding it curiously.

"You're trespassing."

"I'm sorry. I must have missed the signs - I presume you've posted signs?" Innocent and scared.

The eyes flickered to look into her face, then back down to the ankle. Gently, he checked the damage. "You've broken a bone."

"I was wondering if I had. It - uh - hurt like hell for a minute there. Hey!" She grabbed for support as he scooped her up off the ground, backpack and all, and started waking. "Uh, wouldn't this be easier without the back pack?"

Unblinking stare for a moment. "No."

"Oh. OK." She held on and let him make the calls. Damn, Ski hadn't said anything about inhuman, had he?

Twenty minutes passed, they walked along the shore of a small lake fed by a waterfall. The place was breathtaking. A platform on stilts stood about fifty feet back from the edge of the lake in a small clearing. She noted the remains of what looked like a shattered roof. Vines trailed in tangled masses from a tree, concealing most of the structure. He set her on the edge of the platform, and then cut the hiking boot from her foot. He removed the sock without causing her too much pain, although the ankle was beginning to get a bone deep ache. He applied pressure to a nerve point and the ache backed off.

"This should hurt," he told her curtly just before he straightened out the bone for her.

She gasped at the sharp stab of pain shooting up her leg. She dug her fingers into the edge of the platform to hold on, and shook in reaction as he tightly bound her ankle to keep the bone from shifting again. She gasped for air a couple of times and managed to shove back down the rising tide of nausea.

He looked up at the waning light as he finished. "You can stay here for the night. I'll take you into town tomorrow."

"Thanks." Her voice sounded a little watery.

He helped her off with her pack, then went through it methodically, handing her the long sleeved shirt she carried.

"Not to sound ungrateful, but that is my pack you're riffling there."

Again that look to send shivers up and down the spine. "Who are you?"

"Calliope Jones. And you are?" He stared at her until she laughed. "OK, I'll admit, it's a hell of a name to be saddled with. The whole thing is Calliope Artemis Jones. Mom thought that since Jones was pretty common, the rest of the name should be uncommon. At least she'd slowed down by the time I was born. My eldest brother is saddled with Zachariah Endymion."

He blinked. The beginning of a frown started, the line of his mouth softened slightly. "Others?"

"Four. Two brothers and two sisters. You don't want to know," she ended with a laugh. "Well, if you'll hand me my pack, I'll dig out my extremely unhealthy dinner."

He looked at the pack in his hands. He'd found spare clothes, a hairbrush, the sleeping bag and an assortment of junk food. "It's not good for you."

She laughed. "I *did* say unhealthy, didn't I?"

"I'll provide." He set her pack out of reach unless she moved to get it, and walked off, disappearing into the greenery, which seemed spooky considering he was wearing nothing but black.

An hour later, dusk was falling swiftly and she going through all the breathing exercises she could remember to set up a barrier against the pain of her ankle, when he returned with a freshly cleaned fish and seaweed. He went under the platform and pulled out some other items and went to work making dinner.

Cal lay back on the smooth wood of the platform, continued setting barriers against the pain in her ankle and ignored the tears collecting in her eyes and running down the sides of her face. She needed to prop that ankle up. She suspected part of the problem was the throb of her own pulse in the damaged tissue. But moving it brought the hazard of banging it against something.

She felt his hand on her leg again. The pain diminished considerably. She sniffed. "Thanks. I forgot painkillers."

"You should have said something."

"You're busy."

Gently, he lifted her leg and propped it on a wooden block padded with grass and leaves. "Better?"

"Much. I was afraid to move. I didn't want to bump it and make it hurt more." This was half true. / Ski, the things I do to repay debts. /

"Calliope."

"Yes?"

"Where are you from?"

"Maine. Well, that's where I live now."

"Why are you here?"

She looked over at him and grinned suddenly. "I've pondered that deeply off and on over the years but I suspect you mean in Hawaii cluttering up your living space rather than the deeper question we all ask ourselves from time to time. Working vacation."

"You were working?"

She could see the suspicion in his eyes just before they went that flat opaque sharky look. "No, I was vacationing. I came to see a man about a job. I got the job. I have some time before the final product is due in. I was taking a break, if you'll pardon the expression. That will teach me to take breaks in the middle of jobs."

"Here." He handed her a broad banana leaf with something on it.

She stared at the rounds for a moment, then recognized what he'd made. "Sushi!" She looked up with a genuine smile. "I love sushi! Wasabe? Please say you have wasabe."

His unreadable look softened at her enthusiasm. He brought his own dinner over; along with some of the traditional green Japanese horseradish mustard she wanted. He handed her a pair of hand made chopsticks. She latched onto them and began eating. Her enjoyment of the food was evident.

"Wow! *That* is the best sushi I've had in ages. Tell me you own your own restaurant and just moonlight as the rescue knight of the tropics."

"I don't own a restaurant."

"Awwww - well, maybe just as well. I can think of at least two Japanese chefs who'd probably want to shoot me if I told them there was a better place to eat."

When they finished eating, he cleared up, stored what he had not used and carefully assisted her over to the water so she could wash her face, her hands and relieve herself without worrying about hurting her ankle again. If he found her stoic acceptance of his help surprising, it didn't show in his face. He carried her back to the platform, rolled out her sleeping bag and helped her into it. He did whatever it was he did to the nerve bundle in her leg that short-circuited the pain signals and bid her a good night.

Cal figured she might as well sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Calliope awoke to a dull ache in her ankle, the kind that just will not go away and let you get back to sleep. She lay there and stared up into the leafy green darkness for a while, wondering where her quarry was. She looked over toward the water where could hear the waterfall. Quietly unzipping her sleeping bag, she slid out of it, managing to keep her ankle from bumping into the platform. She wriggled over to the edge, then moved around so she could dangle her legs over it.

The night was still. She could hear cicadas not too far away and was glad they were no nearer with their nightly cacophony. Calliope shifted along the edge of the platform until she found the steps; gently shifting down the steps until her good foot hit dirt. She grinned. OK. Now that she'd found the bottom of the step, what could she do? She needed a stick to help her hobble over to the water. She sensed his eyes on her as she slid to the other side of the steps and felt around to see if luck was with her. "OK, if you're here, I could use a drink of water."

"Why didn't you ask sooner?" His voice was deathly soft, his breath warm on the side of her neck.

She took a moment to answer, sensing the deadly tension within him. "I wasn't sure you were here and I'm an independent cuss at the best of times. I don't rely on people." That was true. That was so very true.

"Dangerous." He moved past her and over to the water. She could make out the pale gleam of his skin as he moved. He was wearing slacks, but not his shirt. Perhaps he'd been sleeping. He handed her a cup, moving as though sight was an afterthought in the darkness.

"Thank you." She drank, surprised at how thirsty she really was. "You didn't tell me your name. Are you hiding out?"

Damn, it would be nice if he didn't turn to silence and death at every question. "Maybe."

"Maybe? Cool. I get rescued by a desperado! I love it," she burbled.

"Rescued? Are you sure?"

She tried to look directly at him to answer. "Dead, raped, tortured - any of that should have happened already if you were going to do it. Instead, you've bandaged my hurts, fed me an incredible dinner, seen to my comfort. I think rescued is the right word. Don't you?"

Jonathan came to sit next to her. Flame. A lighter. He lit a standard Polynesian outdoor torch and stuck it in the ground. He looked - tired, drawn, worn. He stared into her eyes for a very long time, then reached over and pulled her face to his, his mouth seeking hers, forcing hers lips apart with his tongue, conquering. She let him get just so far, then bit him. Not hard, but enough to get the message across.

He jerked back, still holding her face in his hands. For a moment, she thought he would hit her. Then the black anger backed down. "You take chances," he said quietly.

Calliope laughed, gently, and reached for him, pulling him to her and kissing him gently. "I just like to have some say. Besides, forceful is gonna hurt big time when I bang my ankle on something," she pointed out and grinned at him. "A little gregarious necking, on the t'other hand -" She left the invitation open, her hands cupping the back of his neck. His hair was loose, silky, soft under her fingertips.

Jonathan looked at her oddly, a smile playing around his lips, a touch of light entering his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Do you make a habit of wandering into universal territory?"

"What?"

"Universal questions: What am I doing here? What do I want? That sort of thing? What do *you* want?"

He trembled under her hands. Oh, shit. Loaded question. He pulled away from her, moving his gaze from her face to the darkness. "Nothing."

She cocked her head to one side to watch his profile. "Absolutely nothing?" she prodded softly.

"Nothing!" His voice was raw and harsh.

"OK." Little girl disappointed and trying to hide it.

Something inside him trembled, shook, clawed to get out. / No. She'll only get hurt. She'll die. Like Aki, like Ski, like his parents, like the Dragons. Whatever he touched, died. No. / He shoved the human side of him back down. Only the Dragon existed, only the Dragon could exist, from now on.

Softly, her arms crept around the silent, taut figure. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help." She felt him quiver like a bowstring pulled too tight for too long. Two options, he could accept, or push her away.

He swallowed convulsively. He felt the walls cracking, the starlight trying to penetrate his internal gloom, his self imposed exile. He meant to push her away, to shove her - His arms encircled her and pulled her to him, not for arousal, not for sex, not for anything but another human touch. He buried his head against her shoulder and sat there, just holding on.

Gently, firmly, she stroked his soft hair. One arm held him safe, the other offered comfort. Softly she murmured the ageless words a woman offers a man, a child, anyone in need of comfort. She sat and gently rocked, holding him, comforting him, as women had done for countless centuries, since before the monkey things that would become man had climbed down out of their trees, since Eve first found a need to comfort her man, her children. Dawn streaked the sky with fingers of pink and gold before he began, slowly, to relax.

She shifted him into a slightly more comfortable position and let his head slide into her lap. Without disturbing him, she reached down and found that pesky pressure point, fed it some energy and tried very hard not to sigh with relief when the throbbing pain in her ankle eased off. She found a relatively comfortable position on the stairs and relaxed, half dozing, keeping guard as she had so frequently done for others.

Jonathan Raven took a long, deep breath and froze, his eyes snapping open. His head was pillowed on a thigh. A woman's thigh. Cut off denim shorts met his eyes, and a zipper. He frowned and continued looking up to the t-shirt and then to a riot of coppery curls hiding a face. He felt calm. He felt rested. He sat up abruptly as memories came flooding back.

Cal came up abruptly and banged her ankle. She gasped, grabbed for the ankle and fought back tears. Then she cussed fluently in a couple of different languages before stopping for breath and opening her tightly squeezed shut eyes. My, what a difference warmth made to that look. She sniffed, wiped the tears off her face and smiled at him.

"I banged my ankle."

Gently, he checked the bandaged extremity, his hand swiftly finding that nerve nexus he'd used the day before to keep the pain at bay. The stabbing agony eased off. She relaxed muscles she hadn't realized she'd tightened. "Thank you," she said with a sigh.

He looked at her and smiled. "Calliope - Jones. Did you make that up?" His long fingers rested against the pulse point of her wrist.

She laughed. "Nope. I told you, Mom figured if we were stuck with Jones, we needed something flamboyant to go with it."

"Zachariah -"

"Endymion. Yes. My mom all over," she said with a chuckle.

"I'm Jonathan Raven." The words felt foreign on his tongue, as though he hadn't used them in some time. He thought about it. He hadn't.

"American Indian?"

"No. Just American. We'd better get you out of here."

"OK. I think, much as I hate casts, I probably need something to protect that ankle."

"Yes. Hungry?"

"A little. More sushi?"

"No. Fruit."

"Nature's own bounty. Sounds good."

He worked on packing things up while she ate, and was surprised when the Jeep wasn't where he expected it to be. He walked back to his - hmmm. He regarded his handiwork on the house calmly. A pity he'd been destructive, but - well, it could be fixed. At least he hadn't destroyed everything. It would take time to sort out his memories. He'd call - Ski.

"Jonathan."

He looked around blankly. "Yes?"

"Before you fall back into that black funk, I have something for you. Here." She handed him a note and a picture Ski had give her. She'd kept it tucked inside her shorts, just in case.

He took the note and photo and became that inhumanly sculpted person she'd met yesterday for a moment. His eyes flickered across the words, then came to rest on the date. He blinked. March? 1994? March? He looked up at the redhead. "How -"

"He was thrown clear, damaged, but alive. Look at the picture."

Ski, with walker and truss. "He's out of the support now. I think he could use you to keep his spirits up while he finishes recovering."

"He's alive. - Ski's alive!" the relief in his voice was almost painful. "Who are you?"

"Calliope Jones, we met yesterday, right after I broke my ankle -?"

"That's not what I meant."

She laughed. "I know, but the look was great. I - I've known Ski for a long time. Well, we met a long time ago. Sometimes I doubt we'll ever really know each other, but that's OK. I owe him. So, when he called, I came."

"He's never mentioned you."

"Never mentioned you, either. Amazing how mum that man can keep a word when he wants to do so."

"How -"

"Long? - We met during his first tour of duty. Long before the two of you met, I suspect."

"You don't look that old."

"Good genes and a lot of hard work," she said with a grin. / And special contacts places you don't *even* want to know about. / "So, when are we going?"

"As soon as I locate my jeep."

"You lost a jeep?" She asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I - parked it - someplace."

She got the giggles. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't. But with everything else, misplacing your jeep just seems - out of character."

"It is," he assured her with a smile. Now, if he could just - ah, that's what he'd done with it. He went the opposite direction to the portion of beach that could be reached by a 4-wheel drive vehicle and found his jeep, neatly camouflaged. He removed the drying fronds and other items, turned the key in the ignition and was pleased that it started with no problem. He drove it back to the front gate, went and got Cal and carried her out to the jeep.

Jonathan stopped at the hospital and dropped her off with a promise to come back before driving to the apartment complex where Ski was living. He told that cold-footed owl attached to his heart to go away. He got out of the jeep and walked in, to find Ski, recently un-trussed, sitting next to the pool, under a wide, colorful umbrella, drinking a beer and flirting with six of the prettiest girls available.

It looked so normal it hurt.

Ski must have sensed his presence, or one of the girls mentioned tall, dark and hungry looking. Ski turned around, and then got up to come over and greet him. He looked him over, then met the dark eyes. They grasped hands. Ski pulled the younger man into a quick, but heartfelt hug before releasing him. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Out." Jonathan wasn't certain he was ready to discuss where he'd been. Or who. "Who is Calliope Jones?"

"Long story. Come sit down, have a drink."

"Food."

"Right. Come on in, then."


	4. Chapter 4

Ski's apartment was a peculiar mix of alcoholic bachelor and keeping up appearances. For once, he actually had food on hand that Jonathan considered food. "There, delivered daily, fresh, just in case you show up."

"What did you do with the -"

"There are a lot of happy cats in the area."

Jonathan laughed at that. "Now, tell me about Calliope."

Halfway through the story the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"If you don't come get me -"

Ski grinned. "On my way." He turned back to Jonathan. "You stay here. I'll go get her."

"I'll come."

"Jonathan -"

"I want to. I don't know if I can ever thank you for sending her after me. I thought you were dead." He caught sight of the blade on the wall. "My sword?"

"Well, what's left of it. Couldn't save the scabbard and the handle, they burnt off. Blade looks OK. There wasn't much left. It was arson."

"I know. I'll deal with it."

Ski nodded and they went out. He let Jonathan drive. As he explained, his back wasn't kink free, yet. "But it feels damn good to be out of that truss!"

They collected Calliope who was sitting quietly looking long suffering. She threw Ski a quick grin and gave Jonathan a long look over. She seemed satisfied with what she saw. He hadn't changed out of the black yet, but he was definitely a much happier man.

"Hi. Come to rescue me again? That could get to be a habit, y'know."

Jonathan smiled back. "I think I could live with that habit."

The look that went with the words sent warm tingly feelings all over her body. / Whoa, up there girl. Let's not let our hormones run wild, shall we? We have things to do and places to go. / "Why thank you kindly, suh," she went all Southern belle on him.

"Cal -"

Blink. Grin. "OK. Get me outta here guys!"

"Done."

They took her back to Ski's place and ensconced her on the couch. Ski handed her a beer while Jonathan went to look out the window. Somewhere out there was the man or men who had bombed his place, burned it to the ground and convinced him that Ski was dead. They had stolen more nearly four months of his life and he was not happy.

"I need to go take a look at the - is anything left?"

"Still a pile of debris and rags of 'do not cross' barriers. Ain't had the stuff moved just in case you might find something everyone else missed. How you doing, Cal?"

"Better. I need a phone."

Cal placed a quick call to her home and son while Ski and Jonathan quietly discussed going out to the ruin of Jonathan's home.

The phone picked up in Maine. Silence. "Hi, Zeph. How's it going?" She could visualize the shrug of his shoulders. "How's your keeper?" A soft snort answered that inquiry. "How'd you like to come to Hawaii?" she asked softly.

The youth on the other end frowned at the phone. "School."

"Bring it with you?"

"Lessons."

"Might be able to find someone here to help out."

"Why."

"I tripped over a tree root and broke my ankle. I think we need a vacation. Put Kaitlin on."

"Shopping - " Pause. The kind of breath that goes with a nod. He held the phone out to the breathless housekeeper. There was a soft crash as she dumped the grocery bags on the table and took the phone.

"Cal?"

"Yep."

"You had me worried."

"Sorry. I - brokeanankle."

"You what?" Kaitlin sounded amazed. "Cal -?"

"It's ok. I got rescued and I'm at Ski's now. I'd like you to pack up Zeph and bring the two of you out here."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Temperatures in the 70's and 80's, warm breezes, wonderful vistas, great scenery," she looked over Ski and Jonathan as she said this. "Much as I like snow, stone floors, drafty rooms, and historical value to my dwelling, I think a few of weeks in something other than 6 foot drifts would be nice."

"Three."

"Melting, is it?"

"Yep. Zeph OK with this?"

"I think he will be. You're coming."

"Where are we staying?"

"By the time you get here, I'll have a place."

"Two days."

"No problem - Well, OK, not the easiest in the world, but I'll manage. Let me talk to Zeph."

Kaitlin held the phone out to the boy who was standing next to her. He took the phone and listened, his face expressionless.

"Zeph?" Silence. "You're coming to Hawaii. Help Kaitlin. Bring your books. I'll see you in a couple of days. We may have a guest, besides Kait."

"No."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he also needs a place to stay. Short term."

"Hawaii."

"Yep. Bring your trunks."

"Only if you swim with me," he said in Vietnamese.

"How else do I get to play with dolphins?" she responded in the same language.

"Hai. Careful."

"Always. Tôi sẽ luôn dõi theo bạn.(_I will always watch over you._)Travel well."

She hung the receiver up and sat for a moment, her eyes bright with extra moisture. She discovered Ski and Jonathan looking at her politely curious. "Uh - I guess I'll stick around for a while, if it's not a problem? Frankly, I've had enough snow for a while."

"Who's Zeph?" Ski asked.

"My son."

"You've got a kid?" It dawned on him that this wasn't the most politic question he'd ever asked. "I mean -"

"Adopted. His name's Zephraim."

"Carrying on your mother's tradition?" Jonathan asked with a smile.

"Yeah. Seemed logical at the time, and he doesn't object."

"You saddled a kid with "Zephraim"? That was mean," Ski chimed in.

"No, it wasn't. Now, I need a real estate agent."

While Ski and Jonathan discreetly withdrew to go take a look at the remains of Jonathan's home, Cal called around to find a house with enough surrounding land to suit her purposes. Island prices were more than twice what she was used to paying, but she needed what she needed and she agreed to go see three houses with what sounded like enough room. She explained to the real estate agent that she was without transportation and temporarily crippled by a broken ankle.

"So, if it's not too inconvenient, I'd appreciate being picked up and taken to the properties." She gave Ski's address and agreed to be waiting downstairs when the agent arrived.

Mid afternoon in Hawaii can be sultry and sleepy. This afternoon was exactly that. She grabbed her Driver's License, American Express card and checkbook out of the things she'd left with Ski and decided against changing clothes. She had a walking cast and crutches. She was set. She ran a quick comb through her hair and left the apartment, locking the door behind her. She hoped Ski had his keys with him.

Stairs. Hmm. She looked at the railing and at the steps. What the hell. She took the crutches in one hand, hitched her rear onto the railing and slid down, catching herself at the bottom and managing not to bang her cast in the process. She was just moving onto the bottom step when Ski and Jonathan walked into the pool enclosure. They waited for her to come to them.

"Where d'you think you're going?"

"House hunting? Wanta come?"

"House hunting?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why don't you stay with Ski?"

She looked from one man to the other. "Jonathan, if you were thinking about staying for more than a couple of days, would you?"

Ski let loose with an understanding guffaw when his friend didn't immediately answer her question. "Not unless he was dyin'." He looked at his friend. "I know. It's OK. Agent taking you?"

"As soon as I hobble my Irish ass out that gate."

"Jones is Irish?"

She stopped in front of Jonathan, reached up and pulled his face down to hers to kiss him soundly. "And Scots and Welsh and Brit. I am not going to stand here and argue my idiosyncrasies. Want to come?"

"Yes."

"Then come."

Cory Taylor was crisp, coiffed and immaculately business suited. The tousle headed red head and her black clad companion did not strike her as the sort of clients who could really afford what she was showing. Well, it would be short and unprofitable, but she'd be able to say she showed the three most difficult properties listed with her agency.

The first one was not just secluded, it was well hidden, back behind the massed green of sugar cane fields. This was appealing to Cal, but the state of the house was not. It needed work. More work than she was willing to do for the short time she anticipated staying.

The second place was on the beach. It was modern, lots of glass and lots of open space. A definite option. She watched Jonathan's eyes roam the open spaces. There was a somewhat oriental feel to the structure.

The third was located on a slight rise overlooking the ocean. The lawn was green with lots of native plants, the yard was large for the size of house. The house was fieldstone, cool and shady inside with a wide veranda surrounding it on all sides, adding floor space. It felt, right.

"How much?"

Cory Taylor broke off extolling the view and local amenities and blinked. She checked the information on the printout she carried. "Three Thousand a month."

Cal considered the amount. It wasn't really exorbitant, but if she wanted to make any changes, it would be a pain to get the ok on such short notice. "To buy."

Cory blinked at that. "Uh - " she checked her printout again. "Nine-fifty-three."

Cal translated that into $950,300. She thought about it for a moment and nodded. "See if they'll take an offer of Eight. It's been on the market for a while. If not, I'll go Nine - Even. No more."

"Let me see what I can do." / I'm gonna sell this dog! Damn! They'll take the offer and love it or I'll - I'll / Cory put in a quick call to her office and got the number for the corporation holding the property. After about half an hour of dickering she closed her cell phone and rejoined Cal and Jonathan with a smile. "Eight Sixty Three Seven."

"That works. How soon can you have the paperwork?"

"Tonight, but I can't get the seller to sign until tomorrow morning."

"Fine. I want possession as soon as possible. My family's coming in the day after and I'll need time to clean and furnish the place. You have my number."

"Yes. I'll drive you back." / Breathe, Cory, breathe. You can do this. Really you can. /

Cory walked back into her real estate office to curious stares. She laughed. "Damn, I never thought I'd see it. Mei! Here, make sure this check's good." She handed the binding check for $500,000 to the bookkeeper who bustled off with it while Cory sat down at her desk and began typing up the paperwork. "Damn," she breathed again.

Her boss came over and looked at her oddly. "You sold the Grissom place?"

"Yep."

"How much did they come down?"

"Less than a hundred thousand."

"How's it financing?"

"Cash - I think. Mei's checking the account now."

Mei came back with a grin. "It's good. Didn't even have to research it. 'Yes, Ms. Jones advised us she might be making some large purchases. You may wire the check to us if you wish and we will transfer the funds upon receipt.' All in this incredible East Coast accent. Damn, you did it! Never thought we'd see the end of that place."


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan looked at Cal curiously as they walked back into the apartment complex. "Just like that? I thought you were only staying a few weeks," he was regarding her oddly.

She chuckled as she looked around at him. "Well, it's nice. The money's not doing anything else. Maybe I'll decide that winters in Hawaii and summers in Maine are good for - Zeph."

He frowned at the odd hesitation. "Nothing else?"

She laughed. " Maybe I want to get to know Ski and his friends," she said softly. He shot her an odd look at that, a calculating one. "Oh, great. Whatever you were, it still evaluates, doesn't it. And you haven't a clue where I'm concerned." She chuckled at his suddenly stone face. "Good job, but you're not on a mission and your face is way too revealing," she said softly. "Technically, when I'm not locating misplaced friends for other friends, I'm paranormal research and eliminations."

Her words were alien, incomprehensible. All right, he knew what paranormal and research and eliminations meant, it was putting them all together that had him stymied. "What?" he asked, seeking illumination.

"Ghost - buster," she enunciated with a laugh and sighed at the thought of negotiating the stairway. She was only a little startled by Jonathan's picking her up and taking her up the stairs. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he told her as he set her on her feet again at the top. "Ghost buster."

"Like the movie? Only I don't have a twinkie problem."

His forehead furrowed in a completely confused frown. Ski opened the door to admit the two of them, noted the frown and asked what he'd missed.

"I bought a house. Well, I will have by this time tomorrow, anyway."

"Damn, you do things fast." He looked at his friend. "You help her?"

"No. She did this all on her own."

Ski caught the odd look Jonathan was giving her. Cal giggled as she sat down. "Explain Ghost Buster to him."

"Ghostbusters? Ain't that a movie?"

"Uh - huh."

"Why do I need to explain that?" He handed her a beer and answered the door as the pizza was delivered.

"No sushi?" she asked in a plaintive voice, and chuckled at the look he threw her. "He asked what I do."

Ski thought about this as he paid the delivery boy and brought dinner into the apartment. "And you said?"

"Paranormal research and elimination."

"Oh. She's a ghost assassin," Ski translated nonchalantly as he helped himself to a slice of pizza.

Cal gave a shout of laughter at his translation. "That works." She continued to laugh. "Never quite thought of it that way, but that works." Jonathan looked like he still didn't get it, which from Ski's point of view was odd for someone who grew up in Japan where spirits are a matter of normalcy. "OK, after Ski rescued me, I went on to get a degree in psychology and philosophy - comparative religion, basically. While studying, I discovered that there are a lot of things covered by psychology and philosophy that seem - well, not as mutually exclusive as they might. Most cultures believe in ghosts, malevolent remnants of former people, that sort of thing. And I saw some things in Saigon that - defied so called normal explanations. I wasn't particularly religious by anyone's standards, so I went looking for explanations. In the course of getting explanations, I found that my skills and open mind sometimes allowed me to help people where normal understanding of what was happening wouldn't."

"Ever seen a real ghost?"

"Yes."

"And you've faced real evil," Jonathan chimed in softly.

Cal considered this. "Yes. But not always in the paranormal." Her face grew distant for a moment.

He wondered what she was remembering. He wondered what she would think of the evil of his own life. He looked out the window at the sun set. Then he realized that she'd seen some of it, the darkness within him. He looked back around at her and was surprised by her smile. How could she smile when she'd dealt with his dark side?

"Are you always so somber?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"No. I'm - still sorting things out."

"Ah. Well, don't let it get you down. It's not easy to lose a home and believe you've lost your oldest friend at the same time. Tends to take a nasty toll on your psyche."

"I noticed."

"Hey, you're back now. That's what matters." She yawned suddenly. "And I'm suddenly incredibly tired."

"Here, take the bed room." Ski bustled around and cleared the bed for her.

"Thanks. I think a nap is definitely in the cards." She curled up on the bed and closed her eyes.

Ski closed the door behind him, meeting Jonathan's troubled gaze. "You OK?"

"Better. You were going to finish telling me about how you met Cal."

"Yeah." He thought for a moment. "That was weird. I was convinced it was a white slave ring we'd busted up. Sometimes - I don't know." He saw Jonathan's look and hurried on with his explanation. "Sometimes I think there was a lot more to what was goin' on than sellin' a bunch of assorted girls to a bunch of assorted guys."

His friend smiled at the phrasing and digested this for a few moments. "Something to do with her - current - job description?"

Ski considered that. "Yeah," he agreed slowly. "But I don't know what. I didn't see anything odd when we broke in; just a bunch'a pissed off guys who weren't too happy to see the marines arrive. And a bunch'a girls real happy to be rescued from the situation they was in."

"Including Cal?"

Ski considered that one. "Was she happy to see us? Yeah. Of course, she was. I mean, it - " Thinking back, Ski was hard put to say if Cal had been overjoyed to see the handful of youthful soldiers breaking into the auction or not. She was the last one out, shepherding the other girls past the hot at hand troops, past the dead bodies, past that danged ugly statue looming over the room. She smiled at him when he finally introduced himself. The other girls were crying, was Cal? He couldn't remember.

"She smiled at me. Dang, Jonathan, that was a long time ago, even before I met you."

Jonathan regarded him for a moment, his face closed. Then he nodded. There was a mystery here, but it wasn't Ski's to figure out. His face brightened as he pointed out he'd be a guest for a few days.

"I kinda figured that. She's sweet on you." Ski wondered at the words as they came out. Where the hell did that come from?

Jonathan allowed a smile at that. "Even if she came looking for me at your behest, she thinks she owes me for helping after she broke her ankle."

"Yeah," Ski agreed with a knowing grin.

"Ski, don't read in more than is there," his friend warned softly.

Cal woke up about 5pm with a sense of foreboding. She knew it wasn't her son and Kaitlin. It centered on Jonathan Raven. There was something more to him than Ski had told her. She wondered what and where the road would lead. Well, there was always research.

The evening passed quietly. Cal woke up in the middle of the night to see Jonathan quietly let himself out of the apartment. Curious, she got up and looked out the window. He was settling into a lotus style seated position next to the pool. Meditation, Cal surmised with a nod to herself That was probably one of the tools he used to keep his anger and more murderous side under control. She could see the dark splotch of the dragon tattoo on his left shoulder, just below the edge of his hair. Dark vs. pale. Dark hair, dark dragon. There was something in the wildness of soft dark curls that was intriguing. The edge was echoed by the tattoo.

She settled back on the bed considering the dragon and the man. She fell asleep, stirring only slightly when he came back. There was nothing to worry her in his movement through the apartment. She dreamed of dragons and ninja warriors, the dragon becoming the warrior, or trying to do so. They fought, wild and furious through a landscape of lightning enchanted clouds. Monsoon winds ripped at them, rain drenching them as they fought. She could feel the heat of their hatred for each other, yet there was more - somehow, the beast and the warrior were meant to be together. The beast knew. The warrior did not.

She awoke feeling annoyed. There was something she needed to know, to deal with, and it was just beyond her ability to grab onto. The phone rang. It was Cory, asking if it was convenient to come get the papers signed. "Come ahead. I need to get busy."


	6. Chapter 6

Cal wrote out a check for the balance of the purchase price on her new place and accepted the keys. She only gave a cursory look at the signature on the paperwork turning the property over to her. Hiroshi Osato, in Japanese and English characters. Interesting.

"OK. Now I need to get to work," she said mostly to herself.

"We'll help."

Jonathan, still in black, stood in the doorway to the bedroom. "Thanks. Uhm, maybe you should do some shopping of your own?" She nodded to indicate his somber garb.

"I will. Just - "

"Not quite yet? Only, you haven't got anything else to wear."

"Yes, I do. Ski's got some things stored for me on the boat."

She grinned. "All black?" she guessed. His look answered her. "Well, it looks good on you."

"Thank you." If there was a tinge of irony to his thanks they both ignored it.

He drove her out to the property and left her making calls on his cell phone. Clean clothes did sound like a good idea. He got his hair trimmed as well. By the time he returned with lunch, a small army of cleaners and salesmen seemed to have materialized. Cal was in the back yard with a deliveryman signing off paperwork.

"You move fast."

"Sometimes you have to." She met his inquiring look. She focused past him on the water she could see. "Zeph - has some problems." Her gaze flickered to his and away again. "I was in Japan when I found him, literally. He was - maybe six or seven. I'm not sure and - and he's never felt secure enough to enlighten me, I guess."

Japan? He found that odd, but even more that she was now the boy's mother. "Orphaned?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I believe so. Suffice it to say, nobody came forth to claim him." She really avoided meeting his eyes then. "I'm afraid I broke a number of laws getting custody. I smuggled him out of the country, bought a U.S. identity and paid for an adoption. He was older, considered disabled and, in the end, the agency was just happy to be able to place him, even if it was with a single gaijin and out of the country." She chanced a look at him. Oh, yeah. He'd caught the way she breezed through the explanation. He caught the important word in there, too.

"Disabled?"

With a sigh, she continued. "Zeph - someone tried to beat him to death. There were bone shards in his right lung and over a dozen other broken bones, including a skull fracture and the resulting concussion. The hospital staff didn't expect him to live. I nearly got arrested for child abuse and attempted murder - That was really interesting, convincing the Tokyo cops I had nothing to do with it."

She caught his look and forestalled the obvious question. "It was three in the morning when I found him and - well, let's say I was off the beaten tourist track."

"That * would * make them suspicious."

"Yeah. It did. Only, no one claimed him. No one filed a missing report. Nothing. So, they let me go. I paid his bills and I was there when he woke up. He wouldn't talk. He wouldn't admit when he was in pain. He just - lay there, his eyes focused on the ceiling. I guess he got used to me being there, because he finally looked at me." Even now the memories hurt her. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, feeling foolish, yet knowing it would always affect her this way.

"How bad is the damage?"

She could hear the concern in his voice and smiled. "Not nearly as bad as it should have been. But the psychological trauma is - very bad. He's smarter than your average 14 year old. He's about a year away from his high school diploma. We home school. But he won't talk most of the time. And it's hard to make certain he's listened. We use sign language a lot. I thought he was deaf at first, due to damage. He learned Amaslan quickly, and then I got to sit through the first of the night terrors with him. That broke the barrier he'd erected. He wouldn't answer questions, but he learned enough English to get my attention."

"You spoil him." But there was no censure in his voice, just understanding.

"Sometimes," she agreed. "As I said, he was severely traumatized. There was evidence it wasn't the first beating of that severity he'd suffered, and there are other things. But he won't tell me. He has never told me where he was, what his name was, who hurt him. His eyes go flat, opaque, in - human -" She found herself staring at Jonathan suddenly. She let out a laugh. "Funny, you do the same thing. Maybe it's the eye color. His are really black. So are yours."

"I'll try to keep it to a minimum," he assured her with a grin. "Sounds like you've got your hands full."

"I just hope he'll let it out someday. I don't think he can really heal until he does, no matter how much support and caring I give him, that wound won't heal until it's opened, until the hurt is acknowledged." She took a breath and released it. "OK, enough of that. Now, you liked the room with the southern exposure. Come take a look."

The abrupt change of subject caught him off guard. "What?" he followed her into the house. The southern room was large, an arch dividing it from the hallway. The arch was now filled with a shoji screen style door. She pulled the screen back. The furniture was simple, black lacquer and golden bronze. A folded up wide futon bed sat against the wall. He looked at the room and then at her. "Why?"

"Because you don't have a place at the moment and if you stay with Ski for very long, you'll throttle each other."

"You have family -"

"I have a son and a housekeeper who's also a very dear friend. I think there's more than enough room for us and for a new friend, until he can find his own place."

"I don't know what to say."

"Uh, "thank you. I owe you dinner?" she prompted brightly.

He laughed. "I'll make dinner."

"Heaven!"

"And I'll go get groceries."

"I hadn't thought of that!"

"You would have."

She grinned at him and went to see to the placement of furniture coming in.

By 8pm, the house was ready for its new occupants. Kaitlin's room was spare and utilitarian. Cal assured him it wouldn't stay that way once the occupant arrived.

"She likes to create things to add color and warmth. I wouldn't dare decorate her room without her input."

Her own room was an eclectic mixture of oriental and western. And Zeph's was filled with electronic gear from a computer to the latest video game player to a full entertainment center.

"You do spoil him."

"Well, yeah. What did you expect?"

She went alone to the airport the next afternoon to collect Kaitlin and Zeph. She could tell that her son was not happy as soon as she spotted him. He was stiff, his face closed and Kaitlin was looking annoyed. The woman gave her employer a perfunctory smile when Cal limped up, and glared at the back of Zeph's head.

"Giving people a hard time?"

Zeph's gaze was fixed on the cast around her ankle. He looked up at her, a look of betrayal in his eyes. He signed at her angrily, demanding to know why she hadn't told him how bad the ankle was.

"Because you would have worried needlessly on the trip," she signed back, fingers and hands flashing through the intricate and elegant emblems, so much like pictographs in their completeness. "The trip was hard enough without the extra worry."

He stood there, frowning at her, every line showing tense. He remained rigid when her arms went around him. Then, slowly, he relaxed until he returned the greeting hug with his usual fierce hold. "We are watched," he whispered in her ear.

"I know," she whispered back. "Let's get out of here." She released him and looked to Kaitlin who was looking less grim now. "Here. You drive." She handed the tall woman the keys to the car Jonathan had procured for her that morning.

"How the hell do you do it?" Kaitlin breathed as she parked the car in front of the house. "How do you manage to always find the perfect place? This is - unbelievable."

"You like it?" Cal asked in her best innocent voice.

Kaitlin threw her a look and smiled, softening the planes of her face. "Oh, yes. This is a very special place, Cal. Very special."

Zeph helped them unload the bags he and Kaitlin had brought. He smiled when he saw his room. It was close to what he had at home, even to the placement of the furniture. He knew he should not place such importance on it, but having everything precisely where he knew it should be made him feel secure. As secure as he ever felt. Sometimes he knew how badly his problems hurt his mother. He knew that he needed to become more whole, less dependent on her. He knew that she would not always be there, no matter what her promises.

No, not true. "I will always watch over you." She did not promise her physical presence. She promised to watch over him. That was different, and some day it would be enough. Just, not yet.

He wandered around the house and found the southern room. For a moment, black fear clutched at him. What was a screen like that doing in the house? What was she doing to him to place this here? He reached out and pulled the screen back. Whatever he had been expecting, the elegant, spare bedroom beyond was not it.

She had said something about a guest? Was this for the guest? Was he Japanese? He went to find Cal and Kaitlin. They were in the kitchen discussing dinner, whether Kaitlin was going to settle for ordered in pizza or cook dinner herself. Kaitlin was arguing that there was no point to ordering in junk food when she could just as well cook a good dinner.

Cal was on the point of sticking out her tongue when she became aware of her black clad wraith, this time her son. She looked around. "Found the guest room?" His look answered her. "He won't be here long, just until he finds a place to replace the one that burned. He grew up in Japan."

"Not Japanese?"

"No. Tall, curly black hair, knocks precisely on time when you want him to -" Cal laughed and nodded for Kaitlin to go answer the door.

"And brings dinner with him," Kaitlin added as she returned to the kitchen followed by the gentleman in question. "Sushi, sashimi, steamed eel - the man's a genius."

Jonathan smiled and set down the cartons he brought. "Not quite what I promised," he started to say and encountered a very hostile look from the short, slender Japanese youth standing next to Cal. He took in the boy's fine bone structure, the pale skin, the nearly blue-black hair hanging past his shoulders in a silken curtain. The shock nearly took his breath away. The boy was astonishingly beautiful. He would have been an engaging child. He felt a surge of unreasoning anger than anyone could have mistreated this child.

"Zephraim, this is Jonathan. He'll be staying with us. Jonathan, this is my son, Zephraim. And this is my housekeeper Kaitlin Andrews. Jonathan was kind enough to rescue me when I snapped my ankle. He's had a touch of bad luck, his house burned down and he needs a place to stay for a while. I figured I'd let him stay here. We have plenty of room."

Kaitlin acknowledged the introduction with a nod and a handshake, then set about getting dinner served. She had noticed the looks exchanged between the man and the boy. Well, Zeph's hostility was only to be expected. She'd encountered enough of that herself when she came to work for Cal Jones. Not that she denied the boy had reason to be hostile, and not that he'd treated her badly, even at first when the fear in him had been nearly physical. But he'd have to give over someday. The man's reaction had been more subtle, surprise at Zeph's looks and something else. How much had Cal told him?

She watched Cal and their guest as they ate. Zeph was silent, but watchful. He considered turning his nose up at the food, but he knew his mother would want to know what was wrong with it or him. She had made certain he was familiar with various basic foods from his homeland; that she wanted him to appreciate his heritage, not be disturbed by it. At first, eating anything Japanese had been difficult. Yet a part of him craved the steamed rice, the traditional food of his early years. So, he learned to shut out the associations that disturbed him and to find pleasure in the flavors, the textures of the dishes she served him.

Tonight was no different as he used the familiar sticks to pick and choose among the offerings on the table. Sushi with its seaweed wrapping and raw fish centers; sashimi and steamed eel was delicious. He let his hair fall in a curtain across his face, knowing his mother would scold, but it let him watch the stranger in their midst without being obvious.

The man was left handed, and he used his sticks as though he had grown up doing so. There was none of the borderline bravado he had seen with other men who wished to make an impression on his mother. There was also a tension about him, a suppressed danger. He brought forward memories the boy did not care to examine. He wanted the stranger out of their house. There was something concealed, something terrible about the man. Zeph didn't want to know what it was; he wanted him gone.


	7. Chapter 7

For his part, Jonathan was intensely aware of Zeph's scrutiny. He kept his gaze from wandering toward the boy too frequently. There was an unexpected ache in him when he did. The boy was about the age of Hikari. The boy bore an uncanny resemblance to what he had sometimes thought might be the result of combining his own looks with Aki's. Seeing the mental image fleshed out was disquieting. The boy's silence was equally unnerving.

Zeph went to bed without protest at 10pm. Normally, he would have tried to stay up later, but tonight he was tired. Between the long trip and his own fears, he was exhausted. Tonight he was too tired to care about being a dignified teen and let his mother see him to bed. He let her brush his hair and braid it back so that it would be untangled in the morning. He caught her hand as she put the brush on his desk, meeting her gaze directly.

"Dangerous."

She considered this. "Yes. He is. But not to us."

He nodded, but not in agreement. "To us. To him."

"Zeph, you're being cryptic again."

Usually that got a smile. Not tonight. He tried to read her face. Did she like him? Was he of interest to her? "You like?"

"I've only known him a couple of days."

"He's here."

"He's Hero's friend."

"Hero?"

"Yep."

Zeph considered this. "Hero likes him."

"Very much. They've saved each other, more than once."

He let out a shuddery breath. "Trouble. OK."

Cal smiled at him and folded him in her arms for a hug. "Did you bring your trunks?" she asked in Vietnamese.

"To swim with dolphins," he responded in the same language.

"Go to sleep."

She left the door cracked open and turned off the light behind her. "I will always watch over you," she murmured the familiar words under her breath.

Cal rejoined Jonathan, Kaitlin also pleaded travel fatigue and retired for the night.

"Shouldn't you be settling in?"

"No."

"Not tired?"

"Dead on my feet," she admitted, putting a cassette into the stereo and turning it on to play softly.

"Then why -?"

She turned to face him. "Zeph will probably have a nightmare in the next hour or so," she told him matter of factly. "He's worn out, he's someplace unfamiliar and I expect it to trigger bad dreams."

"Sit with him?"

"He won't put up with it. Fourteen or so puts a boy extremely on his dignity, especially with his mother."

"So you wait."

"Yep. So, just exactly when did you meet Ski?"

Loaded question, that. Without going into much detail, Jonathan talked about his friend. It was easy to talk to Cal. Almost too easy. He found himself tracing the curve of her cheek with his eyes; trying to decide just exactly what the shade of color her riot of curls was; wondering if her mouth would meet his again and how he would respond if it did.

For her part, Cal kept coming back to the burning dark gaze of her guest. There was so much he kept under wraps, so much hurt he seemed intent on setting aside and ignoring. Ski had told her very little about the Jonathan's background. She presumed it was like Ski's, too much time covert and covered by the National Secrets Act. NSA. No Such Agency. Although he spoke at length, he told her only about their friendship, not how it had become established. The reserve saddened her, yet was not unexpected. What could she trade him for secrets that deep? Her own secrets? What would he think? What * could * he think? Madness? Insanity? Could she bear either the sympathetic or the total disbelief? Probably not.

Midnight came and went without a peep from Zeph. Cal looked at the clock on the entirely foolish fireplace mantle in the living room and looked surprised. "Well, so much for nightmares," she muttered and grinned at her guest. "I think I'll take a look in on Zeph and take myself to bed. Good night."

He stood politely, nodding. For just a moment she wanted to take his face in her hands and kiss away the forlorn look in his eyes. Then it was gone and the easy warmth was back. So much practice hiding who you are, she thought.

She took a look in on her son as she headed to bed. He seemed fine. Not even a frown creasing his forehead to reveal unpleasant dreams. Maybe things were healing, in spite of her reservations. She went on to fall into her own dreamless sleep.

Zeph was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. He floated along the streets of Tokyo, searching. He was looking for his house, the home he has shared with mama, papa and two sisters. He was looking for them because he was lost, and he was so small. But he couldn't find his home, all he could find was the cold stone walls of the place he had been taken; the place where he was not a person, where they hated him, wanted him to be - to be -

No. He wrenched himself away from that place and time to more pleasant memories. The cold alleyway where Cal had found him. Pleasant? He remembered a pale face surrounded by loose curls, the tears on her face as she recognized the hurts on his body, the fire he shared with her, the fire that warmed him, kept his pain at a distance, kept him alive when all he had wanted was the darkness and death. He reached out his hand and touched that fire. It did not burn, it touched his hand, warmed his skin, flared across his fingers. He was entranced by the fire.

/ I will always watch over you. / The words were warm, alien, and he knew them by heart. Not 'I will always be with you.' But 'I will always watch over you.' She had never said them in English, or Japanese, or any other language, but always in Vietnamese. He had never questioned that, until now. Why always in Vietnamese? Why were her truest words in a language foreign to both of them?

/ I will keep you safe. I will always watch over you. / And the flame of life within them both. It was enough. It was enough.

A shadow he had not seen before. He looked at it hard. One of his tormenters? Trying to break the bond? No. He sensed no hate in this shadow. He sensed - sadness, great sadness. Need. Fear. But over all, sadness. Then the shadow was gone. The dream kaleidoscoped and changed. He was flying with birds, free.

Jonathan walked Cal to her room, watching with a touch of jealousy as she stopped to check on Zeph. They parted easily. He wasn't certain about sharing a house with Cal and her family, but it seemed - comfortable. He looked at Zeph and wished he saw his own son. The boy's history brought home how hard Hikari's life could have been, how short. He might be looking for a boy who was dead, or worse. He had lost months while he hid from himself and the world. Yet, what were four months when he had a decade and more separating him from the son Aki had borne him? What if the boy was damaged as Cal's son was?

The flip side of that coin was the "what if" he never wanted to really face. What if the boy had a happy family? What if Jonathan's finding him would only be endangering the boy? What if - He took a deep breath and released it. He recognized that tormenting himself with these questions was foolish. There was no way to judge until he found the boy.

And when would that be? Aki's letter had reached him - what? Two, three years after the fact? The boy should be - twelve? Thirteen? Fourteen? He wasn't even certain at this point. Damn. Was it all for nothing? Would it be wiser to give up the search, to let the boy go? Yet, Aki had trusted him to find their child, to protect him, to give him the home she would not survive to give him. Did he dishonor her sacrifice if he turned away from his self-imposed quest? Somewhere he had a son, a boy named Hikari. Somewhere that boy needed to know his father, needed to be warned about the forces that threatened him, if he didn't already know. If he never found that boy, would those forces even be important to him?

He rubbed his forehead. Maybe it was too soon to try to think these things through. He undressed and lay down on his bed. Comfortable. Just the right firmness. Surprising. He yawned, stretched and closed his eyes.

The dreams started the usual way, standing in the doorway to his parent's room, the bloodstains; the body outlines; the marks on the wall that proclaimed this the work of the Black Dragons. He felt the fear, the anger, the grief welling up within. He felt the burning dryness of his eyes. He could not cry. He was too old to cry. He was twelve. He was caught in that no man's land between childhood and manhood.

The scene shifted, he spoke to his sensei, beginning the path that would lead to the downfall of the Dragons. And there was Aki. Not the most beautiful of the young women who trained with his sensei, but the one who caught his eye as he caught hers. Sweet Aki, the only person to penetrate the walls he built around his heart.

Then there was the night of his initiation into the Black Dragons, when he exacted his revenge for the death of his parents. His sword ran red with their blood. He had killed, and killed, and killed - and they kept coming and coming and coming. Only it hadn't been that way. There were no more than two dozen ninjas there that night. Twenty-four lives lost in his anger, his hatred, his need to avenge the deaths of his parents. Twenty-four lives for two. The balance was uneven. Even now, he didn't know if the Dragons responsible for the murder were in that room.

Cal wandered sleepily out of her room to check on Zeph. She could sense his - hmmm? She looked in on the sleeping youth, sprawled carelessly across his bed. He seemed at ease, not even frowning. Kaitlin? Kaitlin never had nightmares. Then who? Her eyes turned down the corridor.

She padded silently back down the smooth wooden floor to the shoji screen. She hesitated, her fingers not quite touching door frame. This was an invasion of privacy, yet she sensed a major disturbance behind the door. Silently, she slid the door open a crack.

Her guest lay twisted in the black silk sheets. One hand clutched a handful of the fabric, his knuckles white he held so hard. He frowned and shifted. She could see the faint sheen of sweat on his skin in the flickering light of the candle he had left lit. He shifted again, turning his back to the door.

She blinked. The tattoo. She had forgotten he had a tattoo. She couldn't quite make out the dark pattern against his pale skin, and she hadn't paid it much attention when they first met. She'd seen it again at Ski's. What was it? A dragon. Yes, a black dragon against his pale skin. It was a striking contrast.

He shifted again. For a moment, she considered waking him. No. He was not that close to her yet. It would be an invasion of his privacy, and he was very, very private.

She slid the screen shut again and went back to bed. For a while, she lay there and thought. She knew so little about her guest. Ski had told her no more than she needed to know to get to him and bring him back from wherever he had gone mentally when he thought Ski dead. She wasn't certain he completely back from that place. But then, she wasn't exactly certain where he'd gone in the first place. She wondered about him as she drifted off to sleep.

Cal became aware of - of images. She saw images of death, a room with outlines on the floor of bodies no longer there; of a room in disarray; of symbols on the wall written to let whoever came know who was responsible for what had happened. She looked around for an explanation of what she was seeing. The shadowy figure of a youth moved swiftly from the doorway and deeper into the darkness. She watched curiously and then followed it. There was a charming Japanese girl, warmth in her eyes as she looked at an unseen companion. She could feel the emotion in the girl, and emotion from the companion, but not as deep. She probed gently. The companion remained in the shadows, protected and protecting himself.

She pulled back, trying to get a perspective on what she was seeing. It became dark. Very dark. Flickering, fitful candle flames lit the scene. Dark figures in dark robes moved silently in the candlelight. Flame on steel. A sword blade flashed, slicing through robes and flesh, splashing blood across the floor, the walls. One figure stood out, stood alone. Finished, he pulled back his hood. Sweat dampened curly hair against a pale face, eyes like pits of blackness - Jonathan Raven.

He was young, very young to her eyes. Anger and hatred flamed within him; she could feel the heat of his anger, the heat of his hate, the heat of his pain. He met her gentle gaze and flinched away from it. There was nothing in his eyes; they were flat, opaque, dead; yet life burned within him, burned hard and hot. He ran.

She stood there looking at the room, the bodies. Here and there she could see tattoos on the arms of the dead. Dragons, all of them. Black Dragons.

Black Dragons? Jonathan was a Black Dragon?

The dreams faded to the usual flow of color and incomprehensible pieces that she usually had to pull together for answers she frequently didn't really want. She let the dreams flow. She saw Zeph as a small child in the hospital, his pain and hurt such strong walls that it took all she had to get through them. She drifted back to her own childhood, the day she was grabbed off the street as she walked to high school. She heard the language again that she had first heard that day from the mouths of her captors. She heard the words that struck cold fear into her heart even now. / She is of the chosen. We have found a true daughter of darkness for our God. /

Something out beyond the edges of her dreams stirred, stretched, opened sleep closed eyes and watched. She felt it, old and ominous, out there, waiting. She came awake, her eyes wide open, her heart pounding, her pulse racing. She knew that feel. She had first felt it while she was being trained in Saigon. The feeling receded when she and the others were rescued by Ski and his friends. It stayed almost out of range of her ability to sense for many, many years. Now, it was closer, much closer, and she feared it as she feared nothing else in existence. She also welcomed it. Soon, very soon, so much would be clear, so much would be changed.


	8. Chapter 8

Cal woke up feeling tired and worried. Her dreams were as disquieting as they were informative. She wasn't yet certain what was going on, but she knew she was close to some kind of a turning point. She just hoped it didn't serve to make Zeph's life any more difficult than it already was.

She stretched, got up and took a shower, turning over the images of her dreams while she washed. Dragons. Black Dragons. Wasn't there some sort of - ninjas! That was it. The Black Dragons were a ninja clan, a very strong clan, from - a long time ago. She frowned as she dried her hair. She looked into the mirror and wondered if she was getting frown lines from worrying at things.

She puzzled at the dragon angle. What was it about dragons? Oh, hell! Zeph. It was so long ago, Cal had forgotten about it. She had owned a couple of white stone dragon sculptures when she first brought Zeph home. One morning she had found him sitting next to their remains, making the pieces of white stone ever smaller with a hammer he had found somewhere. The anger in his dark eyes had burned. She had decided to let him crush them to bits. Maybe it would help.

He had never explained why he broke them. She'd only tested his aversion once, leaving a small porcelain figure for him to find a year or more later. It disappeared. She presumed it had met the same fate as the other statues.

Maybe she'd better warn Jonathan about Zeph's aversion to dragons. She was walking past the French doors letting out into the back yard when she stopped and stared, her breath catching in her throat. Jonathan was sitting on the seawall at the far edge of the yard. About half way across the yard behind him was Zeph, clad in his usual black, and carrying a wicked looking sword. Oh, shit. What the hell was he doing?

Quietly, she let herself out of the doors and followed him.

Jonathan had arisen with the sun and gone out to meditate. The back wall was broad enough for his needs. He settled onto the surface and cleared his mind. He had been there for more than an hour when he became aware of someone sneaking up on him. The step was light, well trained. He waited for the other to make the first move. He heard one of the French doors open and someone step through. Damn. That could make this all the more dangerous. He was just tensing to move when he heard Cal's voice talking to Zeph. He froze in place, waiting.

"Uhm, Zeph - what are you doing?"

Still about six feet away from his quarry, the boy stopped, his eyes glued to the dragon tattoo on the man's back. He trembled. He was drawn by that tattoo. He knew what it was, knew that the man wearing it needed to be killed, to be destroyed. Still, Cal's voice touched him, touched the darkness in his mind. He shook his head, once.

"Dragon," he ground out.

Her eyes flickered to Jonathan's tattoo and back to her son. "Yes, it's a dragon tattoo," she agreed. / Dammit, why couldn't she have warned him, warned both of them. /

"Dragon!" he snapped.

Jonathan could hear the venom in the word. Where had the boy tangled with the Dragons? / Beaten. / the words came back to him from Cal's explanation of her son. The Black Dragons? Responsible for Zeph's beatings? He stayed still, listening, sensing the boy's position behind him.

Cal's glance flickered from one to the other, a frown marring her forehead as she tried to understand what Zeph was trying to tell her. "Zeph, what kind of dragon?"

There was a very long silence. "Black Dragon," he finally whispered.

Her gaze flickered back and forth again, trying to judge Jonathan's reaction to what was going on behind him. Her first instinct was to deny his accusation, yet her dream came back to her, and something Ski had mentioned in passing when he explained about the house being destroyed. "He * was * a - ok, I take that back. From what my Hero has said, Jonathan * is * a Black Dragon, but he's in trouble with them. They blew up his house, trying to kill him."

That got the boy's attention away from the man in front of him. He turned his head slightly, not losing sight of the man, but listening to his mother. "Why?"

"I - don't know." She looked at the seated figure, the visions of her dreams telling her truths she had yet to hear from the man. "Jonathan?"

"They murdered my parents. I killed a number of them. They seek me and my son to kill us."

Short, succinct, frightening. Cal took in the information, measured it against her dreams, and looked back to her son. "Zeph - " She walked forward slowly, reaching for him. "Why?" she asked as she got to within arms length of the boy.

He was trembling, the blade shimmering in the sun. Finally, he turned to her, his mouth working. She put her arms around him, gently, drawing him to her. He lowered the blade, wrapping his free arm around her and holding on as he felt the walls within shatter. A flood of Japanese poured out of him.

Cal held him, stroking his hair as he buried his head against her, listening but missing some of what he said. "Darlin', slow down. My Japanese isn't that good."

"Mine is." Jonathan turned and came down off the wall, sensing the threat was over for now, and curious about what Zeph had to say. He took in the sword, his sword, the blade shining from his work on it, the handle still bare metal and listened with growing horror as he translated the words pouring out of the boy. Zeph's Japanese was flawless. His words were dark despair; daggers in the heart of the man translating them.

It was an odd counterpoint, Zeph's lighter voice one step ahead of the man's deeper tones. Cal found herself staring at Jonathan, listening to the outpouring and to Jonathan's subtitles, and struggling to take it all in.

"They wanted me to kill for them. They took my name. They said a boy like me did not deserve a name. That my mother had no right to give me that name. They would not use the name mama and papa had used, had told me my mother gave me. They called her bad things. They said she was a bad woman because she had born my father a son. They said he did not care for her. They told me I would kill him because he was evil, because he had hurt them. They wanted me to kill him."

Jonathan pulled the scene into focus, meeting the woman's eyes over her son's head. Her look told him she was still piecing together her understanding of what he was telling her; that she understood that he had been abused; trained to kill his own father. It was only his own struck look that gave her the final piece of the puzzle that was the boy in her arms and his attack on her guest.

"Zeph," she whispered into the fine silken hair. "Zeph, what was the name they wouldn't let you use?" He stiffened in her arms, pulling away, denying her request. She held tight. "Zeph - please. She gave you a name she found in her heart, because she loved you. Tell me her heart's name for you." He shook his head, denying her, denying his name.

"Zephraim. Tell her the name," Jonathan added his soft entreaty to Cal's words.

His head came up and the black eyes met Jonathan's wide gaze. Why did this man want to know his name? Why did Cal want to know? He had the name she had given him, given him in love. Fear clutched his heart, and anger. He looked into Cal's face, and relaxed a little. There was only caring. She would not let the Dragon take it from him.

"What was the name they would take from you?" she asked.

Unbidden, the name came to him. He could hear mama calling him by name. Not his birth mother, but the woman who had held and loved him from his earliest memories. "Hikari," he mouthed, barely sounding the word.

Jonathan stood frozen, knowing the name as well as his own, and suddenly, blindingly knowing that this was the son he had sought for more than 10 years. And knowing, he found he could not move, could not say a word. The Black Dragons, the thing he had feared, had already done their damage to his son. They had not killed him - quite. He felt a surge of anger course through him.

"Hikari," Cal repeated. She looked at the man a few feet from them. She could see in his face the fullness of understanding. She knew the answers, but she needed to hear them out loud, from her son. "Who -" She swallowed and tried again. "Who was the man they wanted you to kill?"

"My father," he answered dully.

"His name?"

'Raven. Jonathan Raven."

There was wonder in her face as she looked from the boy to his father and back. "Jonathan?"

He nodded. "I've been looking for my son - ever since I found out he existed. His mother's name was Aki. She was the granddaughter of my teacher. She died - soon after he was born."

The words filtered through to Zeph. He looked around at the man standing a few feet away looking stunned. There was something else there, but all Zeph could see were his own losses. His mother had died giving him life. His parents and sisters had died in the fire. The Black Dragons had nearly killed him. All the horror and anger of his young life bubbled up to take control of him. He was moving toward Jonathan, death in his eyes, before Cal could stop him.

He hit the older man with a straight punch to the solar plexus. Jonathan's reflexes saved him from doubling over unable to breathe, but the hit was hard and took him by surprise. His hold on the sword loosened and the boy snatched it from him. He had never expected his son to be versed in martial arts. He found himself defending his life from the blade in Zeph's hands. In a calm, reasoning part of his mind, he assessed the boy's skills. The Dragons would have taught him well, even at his tender age. Had Cal mentioned any formal training now? He didn't think so.

Outside, in the real world, he was trapped in a strange, surreal nightmare as he blocked the boy's attacks, barely saving himself again and again as he tried to find a way to subdue an opponent who's youth and rage were augmenting his desire to destroy.

Zeph was enraged. His skills were not of the best. He had practiced in secret, never letting his mother know that he continued to work at being the weapon his captors wanted. He knew he should not be pressing his opponent this well, but his anger lent strength and speed to his hits. A part of him knew that the man's desire not to hurt him helped. A part of him could see that Jonathan was desperate not to hurt his opponent.

Jonathan stepped back, found a slick piece of plastic wrapping on the grass; lost his footing and went down. The edge of the blade caressed his throat. He saw his own death in those black eyes, so reminiscent of Aki's. For a moment, he knew anger, a desire to throw the boy off and teach him a lesson, and then he relaxed. No. If his death could free Hikari from the demons the Black Dragons had inflicted, then he would let his life go. The Yakuza and the Black Dragons would never know that he had succeeded, or even that his son lived.

"Zeph."

The boy froze in place. One stroke from freedom, and he froze, waiting.

"I'm not going to try to talk you out of killing Jonathan if that's what you really think will help. But - make certain that you want to fulfill the destiny the Dragons mapped out for you before you enter it. OK? I'm going inside."

Panic. No. Not Alone. "If I kill him, you'll go away."

Cal looked at him, her head cocked to one side as she contemplated the tableau they presented. "No. I will always watch over you," she assured him. The old phrase, the old language.

He looked around, the edge of the blade pressing against the pale skin of his father's throat. He knew she had always said that, but - No. He saw the truth. She would still love him, still be his mother, still care for and about him. He looked down into the dark eyes of the man he thought he hated. He sagged and pulled the blade away. No longer a flame eyed fury, he looked like what he was, a frightened, bewildered youth struggling to cope with feelings and actions that should not be faced alone. He moved off his father, letting the sword hang loosely from his hand as he waited for retribution.

Jonathan sat up, got to his knees and stopped, just gazing at his son. The long years of searching were over, here was the boy he sought, and just as he had suspected, he didn't know what to say or do. He read fear, resignation in the boy's body language. Impulsively, he reached out and pulled Zeph … Hikari into his arms. The body was stiff, as he had expected, resisting him for a few moments.

Zeph wanted to pull free, to deny the acceptance he felt in his father's unfamiliar embrace. He wanted to - He - more walls came crashing down. He dropped the sword and wrapped his arms around the older man. He shuddered, took a shaky breath, and let the sobs come. The fears, the terror, the sorrow he had blocked away came crashing down on him in waves.

The wracking sobs frightened Jonathan at first. He looked to Cal who was regarding them curiously, her head still cocked to one side. Then she smiled. She motioned for Jonathan to continue to hold the boy until he calmed down. He nodded his understanding, dredging up the comforting Japanese phrases he had heard Aki sometimes use on the younger students when they were hurt.

Cal smiled again and went inside. They were going to be hungry soon.

From a distance, Hideoshi Tanaka lowered his binoculars and looked peculiarly satisfied. He pulled out a cell phone and placed a call. "Boss? Hideoshi here. I have them."


	9. Chapter 9

Dark Raven: The Call of Destiny

Cal brought breakfast out to them. Zeph had calmed down, wiped the ravages of the tears from his face and was regarding Jonathan solemnly. He was still shaky from the emotional storm and the intellectual upset. He was carefully sitting on his immense desire to destroy his father because he also did not want to do what the Dragons had programmed him to do. He saw understanding in his father's eyes.

"So - initial storm over?" Both sets of black eyes stared at her. "Ok, I'll just take this back inside -"

"No."

She smiled at her son and set the plate in the grass in front of him. Bacon and rice flour pancakes and fruit. She felt the quizzical look start on her guest's face.

"Don't start." She set a similar plate down for him, handed them both a set of chopsticks and headed back into the house.

"You're not eating?"

She glanced back at him, curls bouncing and shimmering in the sunlight. "Do I look like I have three hands?" she asked sweetly.

"She'll be back with hers," Zeph told him, staying with the Japanese.

"Hi - Zeph -"

"Hikari. For mother I am Zeph. For you, Hikari. I - I need to hear it - to know that it is still me - " He faltered and looked down at his plate. Oh, boy. He'd made a mess of the pancakes while he was talking. He stiffened when Jonathan touched his arm, looked up into the dark eyes so like his own and bobbed a sketchy nod.

"It's all right. It will take time. Hikari." The faint smile that lit the boy's face at the sound of his name brought an incredible joy to Jonathan's heart. He realized that it would take time to unwind the brainwashing the Black Dragons had imposed on the boy. He grieved for the pain and damage inflicted on his son, but was also thankful that Cal had found him; rescued him. The thought of facing his son in earnest chilled him to the marrow. That the Dragons had thought it a fitting fate for them both sent ice through his veins.

"I'm baaaack -" she caught Jonathan's uncomprehending look over her little sing song notice of return. "You don't watch a lot of horror movies, do you?"

There was a choke of laughter from Zeph.

"No."

"Ah. Bad guy ghosts. Sequel. Survivor small child announces the return of the bad guys in a small voice. Not a bad movie. You two planning on eating, or building ramparts?" She was looking at their plates.

"Eating."

Cal put the day back on track after breakfast by shooing her son off to do his school work. "I don't care that you've just found each other. Well, I do, actually. But that's no excuse for blowing off your school work."

The boy looked from one to the other, then nodded and went to his room to collect his books.

"Isn't that a little hard?" Jonathan was irritated at her exercise of authority over "his" son.

She turned to meet his gaze. "No. I told you. Zeph has problems." She held her hand up to forestall his objections. "And yes, finding you will certainly alleviate a lot of the underpinnings of the psychological ones. But not all at once. Part of what keeps him on an even keel, is having a routine. His studies are a part of that routine."

"My life isn't routine."

"Neither is mine. That's why Kaitlin is here. While I'm off doing what needs to be done, Kaitlin keeps things steady at home." She paused for a breath and plunged onward. "Before you come up with all sorts of worries and objections, there is a very real probability that within a few months, Zeph won't need the rigid routine. He doesn't have as rigid a schedule as he did three years ago. As he heals, things can change."

"He was brainwashed."

"I kinda gathered that. And, believe me, if I ever get my hands on the people who did this - they are gonna regret it." Oh, my. Flat eyes. She waited.

"It won't work."

"What won't?"

"Chastising them. They won't understand. They'll take it as a - you'll end up with a vendetta."

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "OK. So, what do you recommend? Running?"

His brows drew together again. "If necessary."

She reached out impulsively and caught his arm. "There is a time to stop running. This is it. For you. For Hikari. If you run now, you will never have a home. You will die for him, but you will take him with you." She blinked. "Oh, my. I hate it when that happens," she muttered and looked away.

He covered her hand with his. "It's all right. You're right. It has to stop now. But I don't know how."

"Well, you might try enlightening me and we'll see if maybe an outside point of view will help."

An outside point of view. Ski was an outside point of view, but he had no answers either. He considered that thought. No. Ski was not outside on that. He had known Jonathan and his problems for so long, his own attitude was to move on and quickly. He gave her a tired nod.

"It's a long story."

"I know. I got the short, expurgated version from Ski. I think I need the long version now."

They sat down again, got comfortable and Jonathan talked. Cal asked an occasional incisive question, but let him tell his story with as few interruptions as possible.

"So, synopsis is that unless we can find a really good way to crater this "honor debt", they just keep on coming."

"Essentially."

"And they want you and Hikari dead. Preferably as painfully and slowly as possible, but they'd settle for fast and painless if it was the only way."

"Yeah."

"OK." He looked at her oddly. The corners of her mouth quirked up. She giggled. "Don't look at me that way." The giggles got worse over his reaction. She fell over onto her back in the grass, laughing. "I'm sorry," she gasped between chuckles. "I know it's not funny. But your look was."

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Good."

The laugher died away. "Oh, dear. So, what we basically have to do is either convince them you're dead, both of you. Or find a way to - You said the Yakuza is in on things at the moment. Why?"

He gave her the short version of protecting Tanaka and daughter.

She sat up and stared at him wide eyed. "Boy, when you set out to right wrongs, you just take on the world, don't you?"

"I did what needed to be done."

"Not disagreeing. Just - He takes after you. Nothing in half measures if he can help it. Give me some time to think. There has got to be a way to turn this to your advantage."

"If they'd just give it up - I'm tired of killing."

He sounded lost, hopeless. Impulsively, she put her arms around him, holding him as she had Zeph. "We'll figure something out. I won't promise milk and honey, but I will do my best." Suddenly she was aware of him on an entirely different level. His eyes were velvet soft, warm, yielding, wanting. She took a breath and released it, fighting every response her body was putting forth. She waited for him. He smiled and let her go. Now was not the time.

Cal left him sitting in the grass. She went to look in on Zeph who was gazing into some undefined distance, his pencil poised over the first math question of the day. It had been poised there for a while, she surmised.

"Zeph -"

He looked around at her. He smiled. "I - uh - thinking."

She nodded her understanding. "Zeph, if it would help, will you talk to me?"

He frowned. "Hurts."

"I know. If I can isolate you from the memories, will you let me?"

His frown deepened. "How?"

"Hypnotism," she said with a sigh. She remembered the last time they'd tried to unlock his memories that way. It had not been pleasant.

"No."

She came over and knelt beside his chair so she could look up at him. "Zeph, there may not be much time. We need to know what happened to you and how and why. We need everything you can remember, to protect you and your father. I need a handle on the Black Dragons so I can stop them."

Zeph looked frightened. "No. No way. Not - No."

She held out her hands to him. "Zeph, do you trust me?" she asked softly.

"Yes." The word was out of his mouth before he could think about it. She was his mother, the only one he had known for 8 years. She had saved his life, loved him, wanted him when he knew no one wanted him; that no one could love him. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes locked on hers.

"We have to do this."

"Why?"

Her eyes dropped. "You know what I have told you every day, at least once, since you opened your eyes in the hospital."

Cold fear clutched at his heart. "Yes." His voice was a whisper.

"Very soon, something is going to happen. I cannot stop it. You cannot stop it. Jonathan cannot stop it." She blinked back tears. "I do not want it to happen, but it will. I love you, Zeph. I will always love you. I will watch over you, no matter what happens. But I cannot always be here for you."

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her around to look at him again. He searched her face and saw her truth. "Sick?"

"No. This goes back to before you were born, before Jonathan knew Ski, before I was quite old enough, by American standards, to have a child. I incurred a debt of honor. That debt will soon come due."

"His fault!"

"No."

"He comes. You go. No!"

"Zeph - Yes, his coming is the trigger for payment. But he has nothing to do with it. Together you are far stronger than you are apart. Zeph, I need to know what you know about the Dragons." She caught his hands and held them as they began to move in agitation. "I will never let them harm you. If taking out every last man, woman and child is what it takes to make the two of you safe, I will. But your father will never forgive me."

"Stop them."

"I will find a way."

Looking like he wanted to say and do anything else in the world, he nodded his acceptance. "Yes." He was nearly bouncing in agitation.

"Come on, let's go for a swim." She changed the direction of their interaction.

"You will come with me?" he shot back in Vietnamese.

"Of course. I will always watch over you."

"And play with dolphins."

Jonathan was surprised when the two headed past him, Cal's cast covered in what looked like plastic wrap. He followed them to the beach.

"Lessons?" he murmured behind Cal.

"Swimming lessons!" she agreed with a laugh.

Zeph plunged into the waves with little regard for their strength. Jonathan frowned watching him, seeing a fearlessness he had not expected. Cal followed him into the water. There would be hell to pay if her cast got too wet, but it was so much fun. Jonathan sat in the sand and watched them play together. His son - his son - the words kept humming through his head, through his body, like his heartbeat.

He swallowed hard and tried to think. For everyone else he could think outside the box - but not on this. Thinking was difficult. He wanted to react, to *do* - but there wasn't anything he *could* do at the moment. He sat and marveled at the sleek water mammal his son became in the water.

He watched Cal as well. He had known from carrying her that she was a nicely put together bundle of female. The tank suit she wore outlined the essentials of a very nice body. He found that she was difficult to ignore. Wet, her coppery hair hung nearly to her waist. Her skin was pale, touched with freckles. Her laughter was infectious. He was finding her immensely attractive. Yet he knew next to nothing about her, about how she treated his son - he slowed down the momentum of his thoughts.

Not true. He knew a great deal. She treated him with love, with kindness, with firmness. She dealt with a psyche damaged to a point that most people would not have been able to handle. And she handled it well. She worked with his son, worked to make him as whole and healthy as she could. The crisis this morning would help. But where did that leave him?

He watched the two of them splashing and enjoying themselves and felt isolated, outside the loop. His finding Hikari put the boy in danger. He had a vision of the house exploding in flame again, knowing what it felt like when he believed Ski had been inside the house; when he believed Ski had died. How could he endanger the boy like that? He felt a lump rise in his throat. How could he not want to be a part of the boy's life?

He let himself fall backwards into the loose sand and stared up at the sky, squinting at the sun. He closed his eyes. Aki. Where was Aki when he needed her? Dead. Stupid question. And why did he feel such a desperate need for her right now? Because that is *our* son, he answered himself. Hell.

He was half dozing, trying to puzzle out some answer to their situation when a splash of water landed on his chest. He sat up and met his son's twinkling eyes.

"Not asleep," he called back to Cal who was just walking out of the surf.

"I wasn't wet either."

Zeph looked down at him, a smile still curving his mouth, his eyes sparkling. "No," he conceded. "You are now. Swim?"

"No trunks," Jonathan responded in the same sort of verbal short hand.

Zeph frowned. "Buy some? Swim - tomorrow?"

Jonathan's face softened radically and he nodded his acceptance. "All right."

"Dolphins - didn't come today," Zeph added, a wistful note in his voice.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe we'll head for a beach where they've been sighted tomorrow," Cal inserted as she joined them. "I think I got my cast wet, what d'you think?" She displayed her sodden cast. The plastic wrap had not done the required job.

"I think the doctor is going to be annoyed with you," the man responded with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, me, too. Zeph, go get dried off and dressed. I think your mom has to go see a man about a cast.

They both watched the boy run back up to the house, disappearing into the cool interior. Cal looked back down at Jonathan. She carefully knelt down beside him.

"Any thoughts?"

"Quite a number. None of them helpful."

"We'll manage."

Again each became aware of the proximity of the other all at once. Cal's eyes were fastened on his. Her breathing picked up tempo. He was incredibly good looking, and having his attention fastened on one just - she swallowed, took a breath through her mouth, her lips parting slightly. He leaned forward, reaching for her, putting an arm around her shoulders and gently drawing her to him. Their lips met. She tasted salty from the water, with a troubling touch of something he couldn't place.

She pulled back with a sigh. "Your timing is lousy."

"What?"

"There's something wiggling in my cast. It makes it very difficult concentrate."

"Doctor's office. Not biting?"

"No, but it'll probably be dead by the time we get there." She gave a choke of laughter. "The doctor is gonna hate me." The laughter got the better of her.

Jonathan managed to get the fish responsible for the wiggly feeling out of the cast before they went to the doctor.

Cal was sternly lectured on swimming in a cast and looked properly contrite. She advised the doctor that she had a 14 year old with her and she didn't like to leave him in the water unsupervised. Was there anything they could do? The doctor advised waders and no swimming. Cal pouted. The doctor pointed out that a waterproof cast was expensive. Cal got out her checkbook.

"Water proof me, doc." Her grin won the man over and waterproof her he did. He advised that she might want to stick with swimming pools for a few weeks until her ankle healed.

"If he'll accept me as a substitute," Jonathan offered as they drove home.

"I'll see. He'll want me on the beach for a while, until he's really comfortable with the water. He's not as used to oceans as he wants me to think. Or you to think. Whichever. He's had very little experience with open water."

"Dolphins?"

"It's a catch phrase with the two of us. I promised him a long time ago that he'd get to swim with dolphins. I think we were watching something on whales and dolphins on one of the cable channels that does all animal stuff. It looked like fun. Lots and lots of fun. He asked. I promised. Here we might even have a chance of doing so."

"I don't know about dolphins. I think the water's too warm. But sea turtles are another matter. I know a quiet place where you can usually find a few of them to swim with."

The delight on her face was contagious. "You're wonderful."

He felt both warmed and startled by her enthusiasm. A part of him wanted to back away. He knew so little about Calliope Jones, so little about her work, her life, her - yet, she was a part of his life if he wanted to continue to see his son. Something in him accepted that for now, Hikari - Zeph - whichever, was not to be taken from her, not if he wanted to keep him safe and healing.


	10. Chapter 10

Dark Raven: Recovery

Hiroshi Osato turned from the window view of his office to face the current leader of the Black Dragons. His eyes were slits of obsidian in an immobile face. His hair was cropped short, a stiff, spiky flat top that gave his face an angular feel. His thin-lipped mouth was a straight line. His face was unreadable, even by his countryman. It was all the more unreadable for the burn scar that smoothed out the left side.

"You have found the traitor?" the intense man on the other side of the desk demanded.

Osato regarded him almost as one might a strange form of aquatic life in a drop of pond water. Did he truly wish to turn Raven and his son over to the Dragons so soon? Or did he wish to allow the man time to become accustomed to having the boy with him? As Osato would go to any length to avenge himself on the man, so would the man go to any lengths to keep the boy safe. Or would he?

"It is not a case of "finding" the man," Osato corrected. "But of allowing him to find the boy for us."

The Dragon made a frustrated sound. "The boy is dead."

That brought those eyes into full focus on the man. His own gaze dropped before Osato's piercing look. "Dead?"

"We had the boy. Years ago. To let the traitor believe we too searched for the little bastard allowed him to hope. To lay hands on the father we let the rumors be bait."

"And still he eluded you. You are certain the boy is dead?"

"Of course."

So off hand, so confident. So wrong. Hideoshi reported the boy who had fought Raven bore the distinctive birthmark Raven sought. He had seen it while the boy and the woman played in the water. Osato considered playing this card to tell the Dragon they were not as omnipotent as they believed and did not. He would keep that card for later.

"He is staying with a woman and her son. His house was bombed several months ago. You would know nothing of that, of course."

The other man frowned. "Bombed? Why? There is no honor in killing from a distance."

Osato was surprised at the honesty of the answer. He concealed his reaction. It did not matter to him that the Dragons were not responsible. Or did it? If not the Dragons or the Yakuza, who had Raven angered enough to try to kill him that way. He had angered a number of people during his time in the islands, but no one who was free to deal with him. Except the Dragons and the Yakuza. Tanaka Clan had alliances to cement with the man's death. The Dragons would not take him in this manner. So. There seemed to be another player in the game.

"We will wait."

"Why?"

"Are you so eager to have him spill your blood?"

The other man nearly growled. "Are you so afraid of him?" he hissed back.

Another time, Hiroshi Osato would have been on his feet at the insult. Today he knew it for what it was, a goad, nothing more. He permitted himself a chilling smile. "I respect Raven-san. He has beaten me twice now. Still, my power grows in the Islands. He knows and I know that we will meet again. This time, I do not wish to leave any chances open for him. Soon. Patience, assassin."

The other man turned and left the office. Osato knew he had not made a friend of the Dragon. Friends were for the weak.

Hideoshi Tanaka continued to keep an eye on Jonathon, Cal and Zeph.

A week passed before Cal decided to push the hypnosis option. She turned to Jonathon to find a person he would trust with his son's possibly fragile balance. Jonathon looked at her oddly when she broached the subject.

"Is that necessary?"

"You unlocked a door that Zeph kept locked for eight years. He never told me who hurt him. He never told me his name. He has kept more than the bare bones of what happened to him locked away inside him. The hurt is deep. The damage the Black Dragons did runs just as deep. To continue healing, maybe even to speed up the process, we need to know more than the bare bones. Under hypnosis we can keep the experiences away from him, but get the information we need to help."

"You're sure about that?"

"You aren't? Why?"

"I know the Black Dragons. I don't see any reason to go digging into it."

Cal regarded him seriously for a few moments. "You know, I'd love to let it go at that. But you haven't dealt with what they did for the last eight years. We're not talking about an adult, or even a teenager here. We're talking about systematic abuse and brainwashing of a child. A very young child. Unless we get at the core of what happened to him, the damage can last forever. And it can break out in really strange ways. That tattoo on your back is like waving a red flag at a bull. Yes, he's controlled it for now. But the slightest slip of that control, and you're both fighting for your lives again. Is that what you want? For Zeph – Hikari – to spend his life under the kind of control you – keep yourself under?" She frowned at her last words. They'd come unbidden, not truly a part of her argument. She could see that they hit home far harder than anything else she'd said.

"OK. Psychics R Us is closed for the day. Give it some thought. I'm going for a walk." She wouldn't apologize for what was apparently a below the belt hit, but she wouldn't push it either. Not right now.

The phone rang before she could get through the house and out the front door. She answered it absently. Her face became serious as she listened to the voice on the other end. Before she could respond, the line went dead. Carefully, she placed the receiver in its cradle.

"Cal?"

She didn't jump at the sound of his voice behind her. She turned slowly and looked up at him. "OK. I think maybe we need to talk about dark and dangerous secrets in the background of a certain houseguest of mine. That was a threat. Someone doesn't like you."

"I'll leave."

She let her sudden anger at his answer sharpen her response. "Is that your answer to everything? "I'll leave." Great. And where does that leave your son? You know, the kid you just met? The one somebody brainwashed for four years to kill you? The one who managed to keep his own counsel enough * not * to do just that a little less than a week ago?"

The anger surprised him. He frowned at her. He was missing something, but he wasn't certain what. If he posed a danger to her and Hikari, the logical thing to do was take the danger with him. Oh. Maybe not. There was a chance the danger wouldn't follow him until – He felt the heat of his own anger surging to the fore.

Cal watched his eyes take on that flat, opaque look she'd seen when she first met him. Yet the underlying feelings were anything but flat. She could sense the roiling anger just under the surface. She put her own annoyance away, laid a hand on his arm and took the brunt of his look. "That's not the answer either," she told him gently.

His frown deepened, the shift oddly softening his features, making him more human. "I don't leave. I don't fight. What?"

"Research. Let's see who hates you more than the Dragons? Or the Yakuza?"

He shook his head at the thought. "You're not worried?" He knew he was accurate as soon as he said it. "You're * not * worried."

"Not about that," she gestured to the phone. "That was a warning. We need to heed the warning, but not necessarily react as the one giving it wishes. So, now I have two puzzles to unravel. Zeph's and yours. Maybe they'll get the same answer?"

"I hope not."

She considered this. "Yeah. Me too."

It was Ski who found a psychologist willing to work with them on Zeph without knowing the ins and outs of why she was being asked to help. She scheduled a long session with Cal to find out what the mother of the boy knew about the problem faced. If she was surprised at what Cal told her of finding the child, of the reaction to dragon forms, she didn't show it. She agreed that Cal, as the most trusted figure, should not only be at the first session but should help to keep her son calm during the session.

"I don't know exactly what you're looking for, or what you expect to happen with the hypnosis session. Miracles are out."

Cal reassured her. "I know. I've been there before with someone else. The problem is, he won't or can't open up about it on his own. He's buried what was done to him. I know the dragon image triggers violent reactions. He's learned to control them, but I don't know how long it will last. The control. If I can find a way to alleviate the problem – well, it's much better not to have a problem than to have to control it all the time."

"As you say." She looked at the sheet in front of her, her eyes falling to the "Parent's Occupation" slot. "What do you do?"

Cal grinned at her. "Paranormal investigations and removals." The woman's eyes met hers and Cal grinned wider. "Ghostbuster."

"You're serious?"

"Well, yes. But it doesn't have anything to do with Zeph's problems. Well, not their beginnings, anyway."

"He works with you?"

"No. As traumatized as he was, I've never taken him with me. No knowing what that would do to him. I've kept his home life as stable and regular as possible."

"Well. I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

"Thanks."

Zeph was not happy about the appointment, although he had agreed to again explore this avenue to help him heal. He retreated into sign language for the evening to express his displeasure. While Jonathon was inclined to try to make the boy see reason, Cal took it in stride, talking to Zeph as usual and resorting to forcing responses to sign language when she required an answer.

Dinner was especially trying, the boy turning up his nose at most of what Kaitlin had made and picking at what he did accept. Cal ignored him for a while. She knew Jonathon wanted to say something to his recalcitrant son. She also knew he was respecting her wishes as he tried to keep up a conversation with her.

Zeph's salad hit the floor.

"Zephraim Jones."

Jonathon kept his attention on his own dinner. He knew that tone of voice. He hadn't heard it in many years, not since his mother died, but he knew the woman using it had just had enough of her son's attitude. He tried not to smile.

Zeph met Cal's gaze, standing his ground. He almost apologized at once, but his pride kept him from doing so. Silence. Cal regarded him for a moment, her own gaze fulminating at his decision to do this now.

"Pick it up."

Sullen, he slid out of his chair and did so, throwing the greens and other items into the bowl. He dropped the entire mess onto the table next to where he sat. Cal glared at him. OK, maybe the kitchen was a better idea. He picked up the bowl and stalked into the kitchen.

Kaitlin, cleaning up after her own dinner, looked at Zeph and the bowl and the set of his shoulders. She took the bowl, emptied it and washed it out, while Zeph stood there being hostile. She finally turned around to face him. "Y'know, petulant just doesn't suit you." He frowned at her. "Yes. Petulant. Like a two year old told it can't play with something."

A short, violent headshake met that.

"Don't argue with me. I'm not your mother. I don't have to be placating. Or even nice. You're acting like a ticked off little kid."

He threw himself onto a stool and signed angrily.

"Zeph, slow it down. You and Cal can manage warp drive on the signs, I can't."

"Appointment tomorrow."

"The hypnotist?" She got another curt nod. "Scared?"

And emphatic no.

"Uh, huh."

He glared at her.

She came over and stood in front of him, forcing him to look up at her. "Zeph, there's no shame in being afraid of what you're about to face. Cal and that Raven fellow have both said the Black Dragon's brainwashed you; tried to break you to doing what they wanted. They hurt you to do this. Facing that, even from a distance, is painful. It hurts. Of course, you're afraid. I would be."

Zeph cocked his head to one side. Disbelief. "You fear nothing," he signed.

Kaitlin laughed at that. "Of course I fear things," she contradicted him. "We all do. It's how we handle them that makes the difference. Let you in on a secret, I'm afraid of flying."

Zeph frowned. "Why?"

"Well, not so much the flying itself, but landings and takeoffs are hard for me. I had a friend who died in a plane crash just after takeoff. And I lost a brother-in-law to a crash on landing. Those are the hard parts of flying a plane."

"You still fly."

She nodded. "I have to do so, to help Cal take care of you. But I don't like it."

"So," he said aloud. "I do this although I fear it?"

"If it eases or helps get rid of the darkness inside that you fear, would it not be worth it?"

"I – " he started to deny his fear. But that was wrong. He did fear what they had done to him. He feared what he had become to try to kill his father only a week ago. He sighed and nodded. "She wants me to eat."

"Here." Kaitlin pulled a plate out of the warmer oven. Zeph grinned at her. A double cheese bacon burger and a chili cheese dog with fries. For a moment, he looked his age. He took the plate back to the table, sat down and ate.

Cal laughed, both at Zeph's plate and at Jonathon's look. "You don't do burgers much, do you?"

"No."

"It's a teen thing."


	11. Chapter 11

The next day dawned with dark clouds and wind. Zeph wondered if the weather had decided to mirror his mood. He met his mother's look as they ate breakfast. She seemed serene.

"He comes?"

"Jonathan? No."

"Yes."

"You want him there?"

A vehement nod.

"I'll ask."

Jonathan looked stunned and a little pleased. "He wants me there?"

"Apparently. Maybe he figures it concerns all of us."

"I'm not sure –"

She reached over and took his hand. "None of us are."

With a small nod, he agreed.

The three of them sat in the waiting room, Cal relaxed and paging through the oldest of the magazines available to them; Jonathan controlled and looking relaxed; Zeph paced like a small caged tiger.

The secretary looked up from her record keeping and advised them that the doctor would see them now.

Cal gave Zeph a quick smile and led the way. "Good morning, Dr. Davis."

Dr. Davis looked surprised as she shook hands with Zeph and Cal. "I wasn't expecting –"

"I know. Zeph insisted. Dr Davis, this is Jonathan Raven, Zeph's father."

"Mr. Raven. I'm a little confused?"

Cal chuckled. "It's a long story and I'm not certain that it has any bearing on what – well – maybe it does. Short form." Cal swiftly gave the Dr. an edited version of Jonathan Raven and Aki Mishamoto.

It was to the good Doctor's credit that her lower jaw did not hit the ground over the story. She made a mental note to see if she could get the father to consider some counseling as she was beginning to suspect that whatever the boy revealed today would have a great deal of bearing on the relations within the family grouping – what ever that was.

She took a few minutes to explain to Zeph exactly what she was going to do and how she would handle his hypnosis session. She could tell he was not at ease with the idea.

"Do you want to wait?"

"No."

"Not to sound too redundant, but you're certain?"

The almond shaped eyes met hers, so dark, so uncertain. "It is time to find out what can be helped," he told her, his voice soft but clear.

"All right." She had him get comfortable in a chair of his choosing. She assured him it was all right to hold his mother's hand if he wished. She noted the almost white knuckled grip his left hand had on the arm of the chair while Cal took his right. Gently, she guided him through the process of going into a guided sleep state.

"Can you still hear me?"

"Hai."

She blinked. It hadn't occurred to her he might resort to speaking in Japanese. She looked at Cal for direction.

"He can't hear me unless you tell him he can?"

"He can hear you, but you're not his control. He won't respond unless I turn him over to you."

"That's OK. Jonathan speaks fluent Japanese. It's Zeph's first language. We can translate if we have to do so."

"All right."

"One other thing."

"Isn't it a little late for other things?"

"Not this one. If he stops responding to Zeph, try Hikari. That's the name his birth mother gave him."

"Right. Here we go."

Dr. Davis asked Zeph about his current life, confirming answers she already had from Cal's interview. Then she guided him backwards to his meeting with Kaitlin. That seemed to work well. Zeph was surprisingly easy to get to talk. He hadn't thought he would like the woman, but she was nice. They worked back to his waking up in the hospital, always assuring him that he was untouched by these experiences, watching them from a distance as he would watch a movie. He balked at the hospital.

"No. I don't want to go there. It hurts."

"No. It hurt. It hurt the boy you were. You are not hurt now. You are just looking back at it. That's all."

"No."

"Zeph – It's all right. I just need you to tell me about leaving the hospital. You're all right, you're healed."

"No!"

The three adults stared at the boy. The voice was not his usual soft tenor. It was deep, guttural. Jonathan looked to Cal for an answer. She was staring at her son, half in recognition of the sound. Very softly, almost too softly to hear, she asked who spoke. She asked in Vietnamese.

The voice responded in the same language. "You called me. I came. The boy will not go back there."

"I called – " Cal's mouth felt dry. She had not deliberately called anything or anyone to the child, but she had willed his survival with all her might. "Oh, shit," she mouthed silently. She made a small formal bow toward Zeph, toward the being now speaking.

"Honorable protector, I do not know your name and I did not know I had called you. I thank you for your efforts on my behalf and for the boy. I know it is not comfortable for him. I know it is not – well - for you. But we need to know what seeds were planted by the Black Dragons that we may – not just divert them, but heal the damage they cause."

"The damage is healed."

"He attacked his father because of the dragon tattoo he bears. The damage is not healed."

Zeph's eyes flickered with red flames. His lips writhed back from his teeth in a snarl. "You call me a liar!" 

"No. You are not damaged. He does not harm those around him, but the damage before you came is still unhealed. If he cannot speak, will you?" 

Zeph's face acquired a crafty look, leering at the woman who adopted him. "Payment."

Calliope's face turned hard at that. "Your survival is payment enough. The boy survives without your presence, and I so desire it. Talk or I will rip you from him and send you screaming to a Chinese hell of my choosing."

The eyes widened. "You - It will hurt him."

"Not if you shield him."

"I can stay?"

"Let us work on his healing."

"Ask," the voice hissed.

Jonathan had been listening to the discussion closely. His Vietnamese was not the best, the war there having ended some years before he got into covert operations. He wished Ski was with them. Not that his memory would have necessarily supplied more than Jonathan's limited vocabulary did. He caught enough to know that something extremely odd was going on, and that disturbed him. He and Cal would have a long talk when they returned to her home.

Cal nodded to Dr. Davis. "See if you can get an answer."

"Zeph. Can you hear me?"

The boy's face turned toward her, his unfocused eyes on her face. "Yes."

"The hospital. You're 6. Calliope has been there while you healed enough to go home with her. Tell me about the day you left the hospital."

"I'm afraid. She knows I'm afraid. I think the others will take me from her.

"What others?"

"The one's with the dragon tattoos."

"You don't want them to take you?"

"No. They hurt me. They hate me. They want me to – to –"

"It's OK. They aren't there."

"No. I don't see them."

"What do you do?"

"I tell her she will leave me."

"And what does Calliope say?"

A smile curved his lips. "I will always watch over you," he said in Vietnamese.

"And what does that mean?"

"I will always watch over you," he translated. "She doesn't promise she will always be there, but she will keep me safe."

"You believe her."

"Yes."

Cal noticed that the Doctor and Jonathan are looking at her interestedly. The Doctor looks at her watch. An hour has gone by. An hour is usually enough time to deal with for the first time under. Gently, she brings Zeph back to the present and awakens him.

"How do you feel?"

The boy thinks for a moment. Nothing hurts. Nothing is odd. "Fine, I guess."

"Do you remember what we talked about?"

"Yes."

"And you're all right with it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Do you want to continue with the hypnosis?"

"We didn't get to what – to - "

"You did not speak of the Black Dragons," Jonathan assured him in Japanese. He was pleased with the look of relief Zeph sent his way.

"We only went to your leaving the hospital with your mother. The trouble she is worried about is before that. If you feel up to another session, we can schedule in a couple of days."

Zeph nodded. "Yes. I – yes." He looked at Cal and Jonathan. "Can we go now?"

Cal laughed. "Yes. We can."

The drive back to the house was silent, each of the three occupied with his or her own thoughts. Zeph's were the most basic. He was dealing with his own perceptions of acquiring Calliope Jones as his mother. He could look at his life with her, since leaving the hospital, and know that she had kept her word. She had always kept an eye on him, always done what she hoped was best for him. He was grateful to her, but there was more. He loved her. He knew he had been a difficult child for her to handle. He promised himself he would try to be more reasonable; or, at the least, let her know how much he appreciated her presence in his life.

He carefully skirted all thoughts of the entity who had spoken to Cal in Vietnamese. He was a little afraid of that voice. He wasn't certain he wanted to know any more about the owner of the voice than he already did.

Jonathan was lost in his own thoughts. He understood that the voice Hikari – Zeph – whichever – had used was indicative of a second personality. To him it was reasonable to think that Zeph used the voice to personify - something he didn't want to deal with, probably the Black Dragons. Only, that didn't quite make as much sense as he felt it should. He knew he was not comfortable with what the voice represented. He also knew that the voice represented something to Cal, something she had dealt with. Her voice had been sharp when she spoke to the alternate personality. He wished his Vietnamese was better. He wanted to know what that discussion was all about. He would ask her when they were alone.

Cal was also lost in her thoughts. The entity which had spoken through Zeph had said it was called. She knew she had wanted the boy to live, had been desperate for him to survive when she knew it was not necessarily reasonable to expect. The doctors and nurses had basically written him off when she brought him in. Only her insistence had made them try to revive him, to fix what was broken. Now, she had to face having summoned something to help him survive. It was going to take some research to figure out just exactly what she had done.

In the meantime, she was going to have to field questions from her houseguest. Maybe she could side track him into an investigation of what happened to his home. She hoped so, it would make her life so much easier if she could do that. She chanced a sideways glance at his profile. Oh, my. Lovely profile. She told her heart to behave itself and stop speeding up when she just looked at the man. She then pulled her brain firmly away from contemplation of just where another kiss might lead the two of them.

By the time they got back to the house, Cal was ready for a nap. So was Zeph. If Jonathan thought the two of them were avoiding him that was his problem.


End file.
